


Twice as Bright, Half as Long

by PineWreaths



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Multi, Pinescifcia, pinescest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-04-26 18:30:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5015506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PineWreaths/pseuds/PineWreaths
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mabel finds herself the subject of two sets of affections, and struggles to try and reconcile her feelings for her friend and brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Dipper, for the last time, _leave me alone!”_

As soon as she said it,s he knew she’d gone too far when she’d snapped. The look in Dipper’s eyes, like he’d watched someone turn a puppy to a lifeless stone statue and smash it to pieces, told her as much. She started to open her mouth, and then shut it, fuming slightly as she spun away to stomp out of the Shack.

Behind her, Dipper was making the little confused noises that indicated his brain was resetting and trying to understand what had happened and how to respond. She felt like her head was pounding, and the trees above seemed to loom in; Just then, her phone buzzed in her sweater pocket. Mabel just glanced down, already knowing who it was, and letting out a strangled yell of frustration when she saw the expected earnest grin of Pacifica’s portrait on the screen.

With an angry huff, Mabel threw the phone at the couch on the porch, not even bothering to check that it landed. Instead, she scrunched her eyes shut, and ran towards the treeline and didn’t look back.

She needed time to  _think._

 

* * *

 

**Two Months Earlier:**

The summer had already kicked off to a great start. The twins were looking forward to just one more year of high school before the sweet, sweet independence of college, and Soos had come down from Washington to visit, both souvenirs from his own shop and a little giggling toddler in tow.

Mabel hadn’t been especially looking forward to college, especially since Dipper had gotten the scholarship to his dream college, the Innskatonic College of Journalism. Mabel, while no slacker herself, didn’t have quite the same level of academic success as Dipper, and the closest she’d been able to get was the second-rate Alevins Paysan Design School two towns away. It was better than nothing, but the her mother had suggested it more because of it’s reputation as _“The best French art school outside of France!”_

Mabel had tried to cover the depth of her disappointment as best as she could, but it was plainly evident that doing needlepoint and oil paintings wasn’t all she wanted to work with. Luckily, barely a day into their vacation, she had mentioned her disappointment in passing to Ford; He’d gotten a determined look on his face, asked her again where Dipper was attending, and said he’d be right back.

It had confused the heck out of Mabel, but Ford never was the best at explaining his thoughts clearly to others. Still, she was ecstatic when he came back an hour later with a fax from  _her_  dream school, Miskamouth University of Art, in the town right next to Dipper’s college! She had applied and been rejected for poor grades and likely her parent’s lack funds to pay for the  _exorbitant_  tuition rates they charged. Somehow, Ford had managed to pull strings to assemble a miracle, and had gotten her a two-year provisional scholarship.

She had almost broken new ribs on her Grunkle with the force of her happy-tearful hug that followed the news, and while she was a bit worried she was going to light her knitting needles afire from friction, seeing his face at getting her handmade sweater, a luscious cashmere with the turtleneck style he and his niece both loved, and gold threading marking a vibrant and familiar six-fingered hand on the front of the red weave.

 _That_  bit of insanely good news had set the tone for the weeks to follow, and it had apparently been infectious; Dipper had been happier than she’d seen him all year, and he insisted she come with him for his exploratory checks around the town. Normally he and Ford were the ones to traipse around, with Mabel accompanying them sometimes but not always, but this summer Dipper was especially insistent that she come along.

She’d also noted that his gazes at her were…warmer, somehow, as if there was a new level underneath the smiles and little jokes that had been hidden previously.

Mabel loved this “new” Dipper; She’d bugged him for years that he was trying to be too serious, cutting off his affection and becoming robotic-like. This was a welcome change, although the cold attempts to cut off his reactions still returned with gentle shoves when she’d hug him. That had hurt, the first time he’d done that a few years back, and while on some level she understood that despite the spoken “awkward” moniker, hugs and affections like that weren’t something that should follow them into adulthood.

On some level, it felt almost offensive to Mabel, wrong in a way she couldn’t explain: That was what they _did_ , one of the things they as twins did, among the hundreds of jokes, gestures, and other memories and idiosyncrasies. Despite their number, Mabel still felt the sting of each one as they slipped away: No more hugs, no more sleeping in the same room, fewer and fewer times they could hang out together and just be _them_ , the Mystery Twins of the good old days.

It was why she felt like summers at the Shack were better than Christmas and Halloween and all the other holidays and family events throughout the year combined: It was three months, a quarter of a year, when she could pretend that life was as it  _should_  be, rather than what it was.

She reflected as she sat on her bed, her eyes drifting to the little empty doggy bed where Waddles had stayed, and giving her a brief cloud on her otherwise upbeat mood. She realized that she might be being a bit overdramatic, but the more she thought on it, the more she realized that the separation between her and Dipper was feeling like an open wound, far worse than seemed logical.

Heck, even now, the idea of being a fifteen minute car ride away from him still seemed like sadistic torture, that it might as well have been the hour-and-a-half one she’d had from Alevins.

She sat up on the bed, shaking herself mentally.  _Get a hold of yourself, Mabes. It’s just distance; It’s not like Dipper is dead or anyth-_

The thought cut off, as it had any times before when she’d thought of it. There had been so many close calls, too many, when she’d thought she’d lost him; She could still remember the look in Grunkle Stan’s eyes when the portal had opened that first time under the Shack, when he was on the knife’s edge of Ford never re-emerging. That memory had given her numerous sleepless nights, filled with tears and waking nightmares of that being _her,_  and the weight of decades of her brother’s absence and possible death would smother her awake.

So why should mere distance, something that was almost nothing to travel, feeling almost as bad as Dipper being outright dead and gone? _That can’t possibly be a rational response,_  she thought as Dipper’s jokingly pedantic tone entered her mind.

Then she froze, her back on her quilted comforter as she looked up at the familiar mold stains in the rafters: Remembering Dipper’s voice, a not-particularly-warm-and-fuzzy voice, had still sent warm shivers down her spine.

Why would  _that_  be what she remembered? Might as well be remembering him snorting Mabel Juice out his nose a few days ago as she made him laugh at just the right time, and the mess they had to clean up afterwards as it stained the flooring and Dipper’s shirt.

She remembered Dipper’s chest, smooth, a light dusting of hair around the top, and more near his waist, where-

_Wait. Waaaiiitaminut._

That thought had lent a similar warm fuzzy as she remembered the laughter, but the fuzzy had caught fire and the white-hot spark had shot down her stomach to rest between her legs as she thought of his shirtless chest.

Her mind racing, she mentally rewound to the time they were at the pool for the first opening day of the summer. He had no shirt then, the faint scars on his chest lightly tanned, and the hair illuminated by the warm sunlight-

Again, the spark of the thought raced downwards and made her shift her legs with distinctly embarrassed discomfort. Then her memory shifted to the grin he had as he looked at her, the smile that he’d been giving her all summer, the one that made her stomach feel like it was going to flutter happily into her throat and stuff her head with all-encompassing reassurance, like just seeing him smile meant that everything was right with the world.

Her eyes popped open as she raised a hand to her cheek, tracing the dimples, the edge of her lips, even the crinkle around the edge of her eyes; Adjusting for peach fuzz and a goatee, thinking of him was giving her well, _lovey_  feelings, and a dopey grin that matched exactly the one on his face.

Her eyes widened, as she suddenly remembered the little lingering touches of his hand on hers, the first Dipper-initiated Awkward Sibling Hug in two years, his little grins and quiet smiles when she’d catch him looking at her, just smiling like seeing her made his world make sense.

Abruptly, the last few years of increasingly seemingly-icy interactions of Dipper towards her fell into sharp focus, and she swallowed and whispered to herself while looking upwards to the roof.

_“Uh oh.”_

If what she suspected had happened had indeed happened, Mabel needed a plan. She began to wrack her brain, when the jolting notes of “Cray Cray” began to blare through her phone’s little speakers.

She glanced at the name displayed above, smiled, and leaned back on the blanket. 


	2. Chapter 2

The plan had almost immediately gone off the rails.

Mabel had organized meeting with Pacifica, hoping to begin her carefully-constructed scheme, but she realized she had the same luck as Dipper did with his ridiculously-overwrought plans: Sometimes, people acting like people sent a wrench into the whole affair and ground it to a halt or sent it off the side of a cliff.

In this case, it started when Pacifica was dropped off by her chaffeur. The butler gave her a nod, she grabbed her purse that likely cost more than the Mystery Shack had made in the last decade, and hopped out. Her grin was as white and sparkly as her hair, causing both pines twins to return the grin.

_Wait, sparkly hair?_

Realizing what she was seeing, Mabel let out a squeal, dropping her container of Mabel Juice as Dipper let out a yell and managed to catch it before the pressurized container hit a rock. She didn’t care; She was already letting out a squeal that trailed behind her as she sprinted over to grab her friend in a hug, giggling with excitement.

_“You did the hair thing! You did the hair thing!”_

She had gotten Paxy a little jar of hair glitter, more as a joke than anything else, and included it with the Christmas gifts she and her brother had sent the Northwest heir. Se had thought Pacifica would laugh, maybe get a smile out of it, and that was worth a few measly bucks to Mabel.

Instead, Pacifica’s hair sparkled like it had been littered with tiny stars, and more than a little had peppered the top of her cheekbones. All thoughts of schemes abandoned and forgotten for the time being, Mabel thought she looked  _adorable_ , and told her as much; Pacifica’s blush from when she had been released from the hug suddenly became a visible flush, causing Mabel to laugh and punch her lightly in the shoulder.

Because of this, Mabel was a bit taken aback by Pacifica’s reaction when they began walking towards the picnic site, Dipper running ahead to scare off any beavers or gnomes that might have infested it. She had stopped, one foot grinding the gravel underfoot as she stuck her hands behind her back. Biting her lip, in a timid voice she said “You…you really think so?”

It dawned on the Pine twin then that Pacifica’s only other person she could have asked for feedback on a decoration like that would have been her mother, who was distant at the best of times and downright emotionally abusive from some of the stories Paxy had told Mabel. Something silly and lighthearted like  _this_ would have gotten a dismissive sneer at  _best_ , and at worst Pacifica might have been staring down the barrel of a royal chewing-out and possible grounding.

 _No wonder she looks so worried,_  Mabel thought, the sympathy for her friend welling up. Shifting from her toothy grin to a warm smile, she grabbed Pacifica’s hand, lacing her fingers through as she gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Paxy, trust me: It looks freaking  _great,_ for realsies.”

Pacifica’s blush went from “light sunburn” to “boiled lobster” in a span of a few seconds, and she looked away, letting out a little hushed noise of embarrassment. “Thanks,” she said in a little quiet voice, and she turned to give Mabel a tiny smile.

Mabel returned it, missing the stiffening of Pacifica’s arm as she gave her a second squeeze before releasing her fingers. “Now come on, slowpoke, we’ve got a picnic that needs eating!”

Laughing, Mabel ran ahead as Pacifica let out a chuckle and sprinted to catch up with her. Dipper had already spread out the blanket and was in the process of laying out the paper plates and sandwich fixings as they sat. Mabel quickly assembled, admired, blogged about, and finally devoured her triple-decker tower of meat, cheese, bread, and saucy engineering as Pacifica and Dipper barely finished making their own.

Leaning back as her brother and friend ate, Mabel let in a deep breath, sighing slowly and happily as she just leaned back and absorbed the ambiance of the forest all around her. The light of the afternoon was filtering in past some trees, illuminating motes of light, hanging moss vines, and the occasional falling needle or leaf. The wind added a soft quiet shimmer, partially masking the occasional distant bird call and reply or creak of an old tree branch.

This, this was how summer, how _life_ should always be.

She turned over to look at Dipper as he finished his sandwich, licking a blop of mustard off of one finger with a look of intense concentration that caused her to burst out in giggles. He looked up, confused and with his finger still in his mouth, causing her giggles to evolve into a belly laugh.

Dipper, noticing the offending finger, blushed slightly and chuckled, but then after a second, his look became mischievous and he darted over to begin tickling Mabel, cackling “Ahahahah;  _Revenge!”_  Her laughter changed into whoops and weak laughing protests as Pacifica quickly wolfed down the sandwich half she’d been nibbling at, leaving the remainder untouched on her plate as she attacked Mabel from the other side.

They stopped, giving Mabel a brief pause to catch her breath, but before they could begin again, she gave Pacifica a glance, and with an evil laugh they both pounced on Dipper. He chuckled a little, not giving them much heed, but then let out a high-pitched squeal as Mabel managed to get a shoe off and went for his toes. She narrowly avoided a reflexively-kicking foot, and after a few spasms she let her twin get a breather.

Then they both turned towards Pacifica, who abruptly went wide-eyed before they began tickling her. However, they both slowed and pulled back when, between giggles, there was a distinctly non-giggle whimper. Worried that they’d hurt her, Mabel helped Pacifica sit up, but their friend was just avoiding meeting their gazes.

The moment broken, Dipper cleared his throat and got to his feet, putting the bits of their picnic back in the basket and standing up. Mabel helped Pacifica to her feet, but she was still avoiding either twin’s gaze. He gave Mabel a worried look, but she returned a reassuring smile and a nod for him to go ahead.

After Dipper had vanished around the corner of the trail, Mabel stopped, and grabbed Pacifica’s shoulders to gently turn her to face her. She was met with a shimmering curtain of blond hair obscuring her face, but brushing a finger along her forehead to pull the glittered hair aside, she was shocked to see Pacifica’s face a blotchy red, her mascara starting to run from silent tears Mabel hadn’t heard at all.

She felt her chest clench, and she pulled her friend into a hug, whispering “Oh  _god_ , Paxy, I’m sorry. We didn’t mean- We- Oh, oh Paxy, I didn’t know it would upset you, I’m _sorry._ ”

She could feel her own eyes starting to shimmer around the edges, and they threatened to burst free as she heard Pacifica whisper hoarsely “M-Mabel, can I-can I t-tell you s-s-something?” Even as the words jolted out, she could feel Pacifica stiffen and her shoulders start to shake as she held back sobs.

She had never heard Pacifica, with her perfect enunciation and grammar, stutter before; Mabel briefly realized this might have been  _why_  Pacifica had so many language tutors, and remembering the cold and perfection-based air of the Northwest family, suddenly hated Preston and Priscilla and that damned bell even more for what they had done to her friend.

Mabel nodded, and whispered with her voice cracking a bit “Of course, Paxy. You can always, _always_ tell me anything. We’re best friends, remember?”

She pulled back from the hug, hands still on Pacifica’s shoulders, but the girl still didn’t meet her gaze, instead staring off towards the ground to one side. She turned, met Mabel’s gaze and returned the small smile Mabel gave her with a weak one of her own, but then looked back towards the trees.

“I-I-I…” She took in a deep breath, calming herself, and when Pacifica spoke again, it was in the clipped and clear tone she was used to hearing from the young Northwest heir.

“Thank you, Mabel.” Her voice softened a bit from the almost-mechanical way she’d carefully spoken, and she said a bit reproachfully “I appreciate that. I really do…But I think this is something I’ll have to save for another day.”

Mabel couldn’t help the feeling of disappointment, but she took some measure of comfort in being able to tell that Pacifica was speaking to her warmly and honestly; Sometimes you just needed time, and while Mabel was aching to help her distressed friend, she at least knew that forcing the issue now would be a terrible idea. Instead, she just nodded, and was a bit taken aback when Pacifica lunged forward to hug her, whispering “Thank you, for understanding.”

Mabel grinned, returning the hug with a bear-hug squeeze of her own and saying “Of course. You’re like a sister to me, Paxy. You know that, right?” Pacifica made an odd choked sound, giving Mabel an odd look before laughing and smiling while shaking her head. Mabel shrugged, joining in the giggle, and whispering in a mock-confidant falsetto  _“Plus, you’re waaay better looking than the current sibling model I got.”_

The laughter that rang out through the trees gave Mabel a surge of reassurance, the heat filling her with assurance that her friend would be all right and washing away the doubt and worry that had threatened to overwhelm their afternoon together.

 

 

That night, as Mabel leaned back in bed and looked up towards the rafters, she tried to plot out her plan, but something kept nagging her, butting in as she tried to keep thoughts of Dipper at bay so she could concentrate. It was a warm smiling face, and familiar laughter ringing out: Pacifica.

A familiar wash of icy sweat trickled down her back as Pacifica’s stilted behavior following Mabel’s hugs and hand-holding were set in a new light.

 _Oh no. Not again,_ she thought as she slapped her arm against her forehead. Quickly, Mabel ran through the checklist she did last night, and was puzzled by the result.

Thoughts for both her brother and her friend had sent sparks of arousal down her belly, but the warm indistinct happiness she felt while thinking about them was unique for each of them.

For Dipper, Mabel felt reassured, warm, comforted and secure. He felt like a rock, an anchor she could rely on, an unchanging point in time and space. Dipper would always be there for her, and she could always rely on him when she was stumbling or in trouble. She could tell him anything, and he pretty much knew anything she would need to tell anyways.

For Pacifica, instead she felt sympathy, worry and empathy, and care for her. Her heart rebroke when she thought of Pacifica’s distress, and swelled when she remembered how much she’d been able to help her earlier. She cared for Paxy more than anyone other than Dipper, and knew that she would drop anything to help her be happy.

 _Oh dear._ As far as she could weigh, Mabel internal fuzzies came out as a wash between the two individuals. She began to panic, trying to figure out how she could buy herself more time to really _figure_ this whole thing  _out._

Her eyes drifted to her phone, where a message from Pacifica was glowing and awaiting a reply on the screen, and her memory popped back to the call from yesterday night. Eyes widening a bit in realization, she smiled.

_Maybe that plan would work after all._


	3. Chapter 3

He hated this.

Not because it was Pacifica; On the contrary, Dipper thought of her as a close friend, as close as he had in more than a decade.

Not because of the location; The Club was exquisite. Expensive, to be sure, but luscious in every furnishing and with food so mouth-watering you were drooling before you even fully passed the threshold.

Not because of the clothing; While he much preferred his vest and some khakis to the black tuxedo pants and dress shirt, he did have to admit he cut a very dashing figure, and it matched well against Pacifica’s dress, the color of stormy oceans and embroidered with stars in golden thread and little luminescent pearls.

He hated it because it was  _so close_  to what he truly wanted.

He wanted to be on a date with  _Mabel._

He hid the scowl that erupted, as Pacifica apparently missed it while looking over the menu. The tension at the table set Dipper’s teeth humming like piano wire, and he knew he couldn’t tell Pacifica how he felt.

As he looked up, he saw her give the waiter one of her rare smiles; Small, but toothy and honest in a way he’d never had expected when they’d first met. She didn’t say it, but the reservations she had about “sloppier” manners like smiling and laughter around her parents made it clear that such expressions were strictly forbidden.

She caught his eye, the smile growing somewhat before abruptly shifting to a note of sorrow. Dipper could tell it was disappointment set to match his own, but he didn’t want to bring it up. He didn’t have a lot of experience with girls, even at school, but what he had learned through repeated trial-and-mostly-error was to not press an issue if the person didn’t want to talk about it.

Luckily, Mabel was far more straightforward; When he had pissed her off or upset her, she used to retreat to Sweatertown for a while, and then afterwards come to talk with him about it after she’d had some time to think. Nowadays the sweaters had been replaced by just shutting her eyes and sitting huddled up on the bed, but the principle remained the same.

Still, Pacifica knew she was meeting him on a date; Dipper could understand the disappointment if she had been expecting Baron Fundshauser and got a Pines twin instead, but he couldn’t resist feeling more than a bit miffed at the reception. Normally, he’d have been on edge, shooting barbs back at her over even the snippiest thing or most trivial comment; Dipper knew that when he was angry, his politeness died a temporary and incandescent death, but tonight he just felt detached.

Numb.

He knew why, and the au jus sandwich tasted flavorless as well. Mabel didn’t just brighten a room with her presence, although everyone else around her always noticed her bubbly exuberance and mood that could kickstart a party in a second. Lately, Dipper had been feeling like his mood was reliant on Mabel being nearby; He always hovered over her like a hawk, which was necessary with all the insane murderous craziness that Gravity Falls had to offer at times over the summers, but now he did so to just be close to her.

It wasn’t a one-way thing, either; Mabel had gone with Wendy and Manly Dan to drop off a load of lumber in Ashland down south, and Wendy had wanted to show his sister the Lumberjack Games she had participate in as a child. Grunkle Stan had cornered and trapped Dipper at the Shack, manning the counter through the rush hours of vapid and easily-impoverished tourists, but Mabel’s distance _hurt._  Every spare minute he wasn’t actively handing over cash or counting question mark pins he was fretting over her, wondering why she hadn’t called yet, and after he called the third customer by his sister’s name, a large and sweaty man with a toupee that looks like someone had taken to taxidermying shag carpeting, Grunkle Stan had called him over.

His Grunkle had given him the afternoon off, and he had barely let the words leave his mouth when Dipper was bounding past, running up the stairs in the hope that another ten feet of elevation would grant him another bar to compliment the solitary bar of reception his cellphone had. It had rung, rung again, and by the third ring Dipper could feel his palms begin to sweat.

_Oh god, what if they were in an accident? She never called me, but what if it was a police officer that has custody of the phone? Are they allowed to answer, or- Shit, if they were in a wreck, that might have been hours ago, and I’ve just been sitting here; Mabel might be hurt, and needing my help or something and I’m just-_

Then the phone picked up, and in a blurred rush of relief and worry Dipper blundered out “ _Mabel_ isthatyouareyouthere?”

He felt his heart descend like a comet into his stomach as a gruff voice answered, one that Dipper didn’t recognize. “Hello, who is this?”

Dipper’s jaw went slack, his vision starting to narrow as he fell backwards nerveless onto the bed, before he started and sat upright when he heard a pair of giggling voices on the other end. “Rick, give it back!” came Mabel’s voice, as Dipper could feel the elephant that was sitting on his chest get up and letting him breath again.

That enveloping weight condensed into a fiery knot of anger.  _Rick? Who the fuck is Rick?_ He could feel his free hand clench the bed’s comforter, squeezing it into a ball as he heard the laughter again. The male voice said something indistinct to someone else before vanishing, and Mabel’s voice came through clearly.

She had explained that Rick was an old friend of Wendy’s, and Dipper could feel the knot of jealous rage unwind, but he was still shocked it had formed in the first place, and so quickly too.

Moments like that had reminded Dipper of just how hard he had fallen for his sister. He’d tried to ignore it at first, but in the process he’d shut out Mabel as well. She had noticed, and he’d realized it was weighing on her even without a word being said; She was giving him his distance, and not probing him with questions after the first handful, for which he was grateful, but Dipper hated keeping secrets from her and his fugue was dragging her down.

So, two summers ago, Dipper had resolved to let himself enjoy her presence. They weren’t nearly-attached-at-the-hip the rest of the year, so he hadn’t changed much of anything there in the first place, but now he didn’t shy away from her when she came in for a hug, and he didn’t go to run off and explore the woods alone anymore. The change in his sister had been drastic and immediate, and even their Grunkle had mentioned how their mutual good moods had helped upsell stock at the Shack at a level he hadn’t seen all year.

For Dipper, it meant the summers were now abject torture, but one worth every agony: He had to be next to the girl who, after countless lists, weighings of the pros and cons, internal debates and even a visit to a wise troll sage under a broken bridge on the far end of town, he knew was probably his True Love. It had been corny to think of her as such, to be sure, but Dipper couldn’t think of anyone who made him happier, or who would be capable of making him happier; Besides, while he didn’t want to speak for his sister, she always seemed happiest near him as well, which made the cruel reality all the more biting.

They could never be together.

For one, Dipper had no idea if Mabel returned his affections. He had definitely never brought them up to her, and she had never said anything of the sort towards him. She was touchy-feely, with plenty of hugs and shoulder-punches, but she’d been delivering both since they were toddlers, and it meant Dipper was left with nothing indicating his love was reciprocated any way but platonically.

Even his rational, scientific corner of his brain was betraying and taunting him, reminding him that even if every odd was broken and every likelihood of existence was overturned, they could never have kids, and their genetics would mean that their attempts at having children would have resulted in just more freaks.

_More freaks, like brothers who imagine fucking their sisters._

That was the particular little black mote that cropped up whenever thoughts of holding his sister began to arise, kissing her neck, running his hands through her hair and smelling the soft faintly-vanilla scent of her body against his.  _Imagine it all you like, because you’ll never do anything but imagine it._

_“Dipper!”_

He jerked his head upwards, eyes wide as he realized he’d been crying. The tablecloth beneath his head was damp, speckled with drops that hadn’t evaporated yet, and there were a few glances shot at their table from nearby patrons before they returned to their meals. Dipper looked up to Pacifica, about to voice an apology when he saw she was looking at his hand.

Without realizing, Dipper had grabbed a fork, his thumb pressing against the tines so hard it had already formed an ugly  bruise. He looked at it, detached and letting out a slight smile, before reassuring Pacifica with a brief “It’s nothing.”

She rolled her eyes, in a manner that was painfully reminiscent of his own sister, and said “ _Bullshit._ Let me see that.” She took his outstretched hand, and as she turned it over, she tutted at the injury.

Dipper got an unexpected shiver from the contact against his hand; Pacifica’s gloves were golden silk, cold at first touch before the heat from her concealed skin and his own heated the contact to feel like smooth nothingness. He could tell Pacifica had slowed her examination, and instead was drawing her fingers almost lazily over his own.

She looked up to meet his gaze, and her look was relaxed, at peace. Then the moment snapped like a soap bubble, as she blushed and whipped her hand back. She began to stammer slightly, words not getting out as she looked around frantically.

Meanwhile, Dipper had gotten another spark of anger at her rudeness, her utter dismissal. It had felt even worse with the moments of happiness, before she apparently realized Dipper wasn’t who she thought he was.

He sighed in frustration.  _It’s not like I’m a dead ringer for half the guys in town. I just look like M-_

His mouth dropped, but Pacifica was already up and running, crying out an apology. Dipper stood to follow her, leaving the entire stack of bills Stan had paid him that probably amounted to twice their bill rather than wait and count it.

Pacifica had started to go out the front door, but a large crowd was filtering in and blocking the door, so she had just run towards the kitchens and out the door to the back lot behind the restaurant.

Dipper chased her out, panting, and called her name. That seemed to get her attention as she stopped, and taking in a sucking breath, she began to carefully level her voice and jerk out a stilted and practiced apology before she stopped. Dipper had a hand raised to interrupt her, catching his own breath before smiling ruefully.

“Um, Pacifica…Do you like Mabel?”

She went rigid; Had Dipper not been watching for it, he might have missed it before she started to casually say “Well, yeah as a friend. Why?”

Taking a long, careful breath, he steadied his nerves, a wild idea battering past any attempts at planning and he willed his voice to not break as he said “Paxy, I like her too.”

There was a moment of non-comprehension, and then he saw Pacifica look at him with a mixture of confusion, uncertainty, and… _Yup, there it is,_ and a tiny flicker of jealous anger he had watched for. Still, those emotions were better than the chance of her just simply looking disgusted and stalking off.

She took a long breath, before letting it out. Dipper just nodded slowly, before saying “Yeah.” Pacifica looked at him, then the ground, and back to the Pines boy. “You haven’t told her yet, have you?” she asked.

Dipper let out a nervous giggle and shook his head. He looked at Pacifica, wordlessly prompting her for the same, and she just snorted out her nose. “Hmph, no. At least, not yet.”

This time Dipper felt the flicker of jealousy in his own breast, but he tamped it down and cleared his throat, looking pointedly at his watch. “I, um, I’m guessing the date is over?”

Pacifica just looked at him, before breaking his gaze and letting out a little nod. Dipper could feel the tension bleed from his shoulders, and he said “Well, um, thank you for dinner, and, uh…”

Pacifica looked up towards him, and was met with his outstretched hand. Looking briefly around, Dipper quietly murmured “Neither of us outs the other to Mabel; Agreed?”

Pacifica nearly dove for his hand, before composing herself and giving it a single, firm shake to seal the deal. Meeting his eyes again, she gave him one of her little genuine grins, before pulling him into a hug. With more emotion than either of them had been expecting, she muttered “Thank you, Dipper,” before they broke apart to a mutual clearing of throats.

As she walked off towards her chauffeur’s towncar, Dipper headed towards the Shack, excited and terrified of the secrets he had uncovered and forfeited to his second-best friend.


	4. Chapter 4

“Who’s ready to get _wet?”_

Mabel’s howl caused Dipper to start out of his train of thought, and he ran his fingers one last time along the twin scars on his chest before sighing and smiling, pulling his shirt on over it, a blank white to try and offset the godawful yellow hue of his swimtrunks.

 _I have got to get something less offensive to the senses of decent people,_  he thought for what must have been the fifteenth time. The suit was multiple years old, but it was Mabel’s favorite, and that made it Dipper’s favorite too.

Ducking out of the bathroom, he nearly collided with Pacifica as she came out of the attic bedroom she’d changed in; She had a dark blue sari-style wrap all up her torso, and she shot Dipper another of her shy smiles, the shared understanding and awkwardness of their mutual object of desire waiting for them downstairs, but before it could linger Pacifica broke it, still smiling as she turned to run down the stairs.

At the bottom, Mabel was waiting, towel wrapped around her waist and concealing the lower-half of her rainbow-striped one-piece suit, gaudy neon slitted sunglasses occupying a frighteningly large part of her face. She whipped them off, the effect ruined slightly as it dragged a strand of her bangs into her mouth, but she recovered nicely. Spitting the hair out, she grinned at them both, excitement dominating her face as she said “Sooo? Are you guys ready to get some watery fun out under the sunnedy sun?”

She was bouncing up and down in her glee, but a quick sidelong glance at Pacifica while Mabel turned to check the bag of supplies she had packed showed that Paxy was blushing, her deer-in-the-headlights look whipping between Dipper and Mabel’s crouched-over form. Dipper gave her a reassuring smile, and she visibly relaxed.

It had been less than a week since their “date,” but the two of them had unspeakingly agreed to support the other, even if they were shooting for the same prize. Normally Dipper would have thought something like this, agreement and a full friendship with a rival would have been ridiculous and a terrible idea, but then again the last two “rivals” he could claim to have had would have been a demented and stunted half-carnival-barker, half-televangelist, while the other was a snappily-dressed extraplanar dream demon, so he suspected his metric for “appropriate rival behavior” was similarly skewed.

Plus, while he would never have said as much directly to Pacifica, but he  _knew_  that Mabel and his emotional connection, their shared history, meant that in the long-run, her was a shoe-in for Mabel’s heart. Pacifica was nice and rich, but Mabel wasn’t one to value money over people, a taught to her by her Grunkle.

However, that hadn’t stopped Dipper from endlessly over-analyzing his connection with his sister, and worrying that perhaps they were _too_  familiar. After all, she knew that Dipper had  _most_  of the constellation Orion made up of freckles on his left buttcheek, and that he’d eaten grape jelly with a spoon in third grade when their teacher Mrs. Voler hadn’t been watching, and that was why he had almost vomited during class pictures, and why he  _did_  vomit later that day at recess all over the foursquare court and his parents had to come to school and wash the mess out of his braids in three different baths that night.

Eyes fixed on the road as he began driving them to the pool, his mouth was a tight line as he tried unsuccessfully to quash the idea that maybe there was such a thing as being too familiar, and Pacifica’s relative unfamiliarity made for something far more attractive to his sister than her brother’s intimate and comprehensive knowledge.

The ride over was mercifully short, and clambering out the pool was surprisingly empty. There were a few kids wading in the shallow end, but apart from them and their parents, most of the pool chairs were unoccupied. Giggling, Mabel sprinted ahead of them to one such set of chairs, tossing her towel across it while keeping the hideous sunglasses.

Dipper could feel his heart skip a beat as his sister stretched, and beside him he could sense Pacifica stiffen at the sight as well. Then Mabel was running, diving into the water with a splash and warning whistle tweet from Poolcheck. Dipper was still agape, but apparently the whistle had startled both of them, and he moved over towards the chairs, plopping heavily into one. He didn’t really pay attention to much, mostly trying to avoid staring at his sister as he’d forgotten his sunglasses, but as he went to lay on his stomach movement by Pacifica in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

She had stood, looking around with a bit of visible apprehension, before taking a deep breath and in a fluid motion unbinding and swirling the sari away from herself, spinning it to bundle under an arm and deposit onto the bench. Underneath was a golden single-strap top, and a matching pair of tanga-style bottoms, and Dipper could feel certain feelings he’d thought had long since forgotten with the realization of his feelings towards Mabel tingle and awaken.

They hadn’t ever  _really_  dated, that first summer they’d met, and in any case they’d been just kids at the time. As he grew older, he definitely grew to appreciate her personality and their friendship, but his romantic bent had barely left Wendy before it swung to his sister, and stayed there. Looking over at Pacifica, seeing her smile as she watched Mabel and ran suntan lotion along her pale legs, he began to realize that perhaps there might be more than nothing there affections-wise after all.

He sat back, screwing up his eyes and adjusting as he tried to get comfortable on the vinyl strappy back without success. Finally he managed to get something that didn’t feel like it would set a limb into numbness _too_  quickly, and he had just taken a final glance at Mabel before looking up to watch clouds pass by.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed by the time he saw what must have been the third screaming face in the cloudbanks when he heard Pacifica shift next to him on the squeaking metal and strappy chair. There was a noise of a sunscreen bottle being popped open, a brief sound of movement, and then a “Hmph” of frustration.

Still, Dipper was a bit caught by surprise when Pacifica’s timid voice cleared her throat, and said “Uh, Dipper, would…would you get the small of my back? Please?”

Dipper swallowed, his fantasies and hopes and dreams having envisioned doing this for  _Mabel_ , and not Paxy; He had no previous real or imagined mental reference to go off of here. Still, it was certainly not something that seemed distasteful or anything; Quite the contrary, as her smooth back sent little warm shivers down his stomach and into the region of his swim trunks.

He got up, popped open the bottle, and slowly lotioned a circle the size of a frisbee on her back; receiving a sigh of contentment from Pacifica. She had her head sideways, her eyes shut, and she muttered “I need to lotion diligently, or else I just burn and peel. We Northwests tan…poorly, if at all.” Dipper suddenly recalled her mother, Priscilla, and the constant state of over-cooked tanning she maintained, and he muttered back “I’ve seen the results of a roasted Northwest, and I think this is definitely a better idea.”

The two shared a brief giggle, but when Dipper started to stand up, he was stopped by a quiet, rushed “Wait-” Looking back down, Pacifica had opened her eyes, but as soon as he met her gaze she shifted to look at the pool deck floor. “I, uh, I don’t think I covered the rest of my back very well. Bad angle, and all that.”

Dipper swallowed, coughed, and shrugged. He could see Pacifica relax slightly, and her tone had shifted from slightly-forced to sincere as she just said “Thanks Dipper.”

He replied “No problemo,” but could feel his hands shaking slightly in anticipation-

 _Anticipation? For Pacifica?_ Part of him that was entirely consumed and passionately devoted to Mabel above all else was rebelling, but his rational side had weighed in and made the case that Pacifica was objectively attractive, and while there were some huge roadblocks in the way of any long term relationship with his sister, those roadblocks didn’t exist with Pacifica, and surely a happy relationship that was real was worth pursuing instead of staying solely focused on a possibly ecstatic relationship that was also nearly impossible to fully realize?

That was part of his thoughts; The rest were  _thoroughly_  preoccupied with the view of Pacifica’s smooth back, the slight curves and slender frame that was so different from his sister’s ample and wonderful roundness. Even the hair was differently beautiful; Straight and pale, forming twin shimmering ribbons on either side of her head and smaller stranded ribbons spilling through the slats to dangle and catch the sparkling light reflected off of the pool. Mabel’s hair was like a rolling tide, a slightly-curled brown mass that could be formed but never truly tamed, and after a particularly disastrous attempt a few years ago, she had sworn off ever trying to straighten her hair.

Dipper privately thought that since they did have matching genes with matching hair, that a bob or pixie cut could look amazing as his shorter hair demonstrated, but he knew Mabel was far too attached to her locks to do anything of the sort. Then again, his brain just couldn’t visualize Pacifica with a perm, and he silently concluded that mystery-hunter and journalist were far better career choices than stylist for his future.

He ran the lotion along her back and shoulders, but hesitated and skipped over the strap along the back of her top, keeping a solid half-inch distant from it at all times, and a full inch near the tanga shorts. Dipper leaned back, but before he could snap the container shut Pacifica spoke up again. Her voice was lower than before, likely to keep it from carrying, and she said “Dipper, you…I think you missed a spot or two.” She gave him a smile and, in a first he’d seen, a wink with a mascaraed eye.

Dipper grinned, his mind making a high-pitched whistling noise, and he squirted a dollop of lotion onto his fingertips, and gently ran them along the line of the strap. He pushed questioningly at the strap itself, and Pacifica met his uncertain eyes and nodded. Then his fingers slipped under, and he ran the lotion along under the strap, feeling his heart racing. Part of him screamed to continue his fingers along the side of her ribs and towards her front, but he squelched them and withdrew, muttering “Got it. Did-” he swallowed, “Did you need me to get below too?”

There was an agonizing few moments from Pacifica as she closed her eyes, but then they flew open and with another shy grin she just said “Yes please.” Heart racing, Dipper’s fingers reached the edge of the shorts, pushing slightly under them to run the lotion along the waistline of the shorts and a little ways beneath that, running it across as-

“POOL’S  _CLOSED!_  NOW!”

Dipper started, his finger snapping out of Paxy’s shorts as she sat up in alarm. They both turned to see Poolcheck, standing chest-deep in the swim area despite his clothes being soaked, holding in his hand something long and horrible and brown and  _Oh god why did he take a bite out of it?_

Dipper could feel a gag in his throat, and beside him Pacifica blanched and let out a high-pitched “Eeeeew.” Mabel had just gotten out, but hesitatingly said “Uh, Mr. Poolcheck? Is that, I hope that’s a candy bar?”

In the familiar near-scream, Poolcheck screeched “I DO NOT KNOW WHAT THIS IS EXCEPT THAT IT IS ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTING! THERE ARE  _PEANUTS_ , AND MY MOUTH FEELS AS VIOLATED AS THE POOL HAS BEEN.”

Dipper could see a ribbon of caramel and some mini-marshmallows fall out of one end, and remembered that Poolcheck’s reality didn’t always align with that of the world around him. The pool-goers fled as he yelled about having to filter the water to prevent filter damage, and within a few minutes the trio were on the road to the Northwest Manor to drop off Pacifica.

Dipper’s free hand had come to rest on the gearshift, and he glanced up when he felt another hand on top of it. Pacifica met his gaze, giving his hand a brief squeeze before he broke the gaze to focus on the road and the hand slowly withdrew, his heart pounding in his ears. _C’mon, focus Dipper; It’s not like Pacifica would be the first girlfriend you’ve ever had._

 _Well, yeah, but she’d be the girlfriend I would know best._  And it was true; His last girlfriend, Julianne, had been going steady with him for a full year before she transferred to another school and they broke it off. He couldn’t remember her favorite ice cream, while he knew instantly Pacifica’s was sweet cream with cherries and hot fudge folded into it (Mabel liked sherbet with pop-rocks best, something Dipper could have guessed even if he’d never seen her eat a drop of it before). All he knew for Julianne’s movie preferences fell vaguely into “Not-too-scary, and with some romance.”

Pacifica loved old-style black and white thrillers, murder mysteries, but hated supernatural elements that served as the primary villains instead of a human element being the primary worry. She loved action movies, but never in jungles because of when she’d gotten lost at the Royal Botanic Gardens in Victoria as a toddler; She also detested Tim Curry after a particularly traumatizing viewing of Cats as a toddler as well, and actively avoided any movies he played major roles in.

He felt numb with shock: Pacifica was probably the person he knew best, outside of his sister, and she  _liked_  him. Quite a bit, and not in a we’re-just-friends way like he’d have thought before this summer.

_We love Mabel, and that’s established. But if if Mabel doesn’t work out, which it realistically might not, Pacifica has always been there for us, for me. She’s my best friend aside from my sister, and there is the saying “Happiness is being married to your best friend.”_

He smiled to himself, his heart fluttering a little as he realized that at least one person in the car reciprocated his affections. Carefully, he went to rest his hand on Pacifica’s knee, smiling in relief at her as she gave him her little toothy grin and didn’t flinch or pull away, but instead rested her hand on top of his.

 

 

Behind them both, sitting in the back seat, Mabel had her hand rubbing her face in concentration as she read the old magazine she found on a floorboard. In reality, the hand was there to hide the wide, self-satisfied grin plastered across her face.

 _Just as planned,_ she thought with a nod.


	5. Chapter 5

Pacifica wanted to crawl into a pit and never come out, to forsake the world and live in a hole in the ground, rather than come out and go on this date. It had been a long time since she’d felt this nervous, since probably when her father had forced her to sleep in the study, at the tender age of six, surrounded by the unblinking heads of the game trophies after she’d told him of the nightmare she’d had about them weeping blood and shouting at her.

Whenever she’d be anxious like this, she’d always think of the Pines twins, and how they’d handle this. Before, it had been fairly fluid in exactly which twin she’d imagine the words of, but more and more lately it had been Dipper, his warm hand and soothing words helping calm her racing heartbeat and let her regain the focus her speech therapist had taught her about.

That’s what made it all the more vexing; She was anxious about seeing him,  _telling_  him what it had taken her days and days of introspection. Her mother had warned her not to wear a hole in the carpet from her pacing, the jovial and unshifting smile on her face a lie when coupled with her cold words and narrowed eyes when she said it.

So she had taken to pacing the garden, arguing with herself against it. At first, as she remembered had occurred the before time,the subject had made itself known to her by way of her dreams at first. She would be on a romantic event, a getaway with a mysterious other person who had taken many forms over the years, just as the exact venue had changed as well. Mabel had been the one holding her hand, whispering in her ear, saying and doing little things that made Pacifica shiver and feel a warm, enveloping sense of love and security that she never had before she had formed the friendship with the twins.

Then Dipper had been there too, alongside Mabel and helping with little words, little touches, holding her hand or the door to the golden theater and luscious red curtains, holding the picnic basket up the green grassy hill with the lone twisted and bent weeping willow at the top to shelter them under the branches. His gestures and reassurances had warmed her and surrounded her just as much as his sister’s did, and between the both of them Pacifica felt at peace, happy beyond words and so relaxed that she often fell asleep in the dream as well, drifting into dreamless sleep with a sigh.

So why was she worried about seeing Dipper, about just telling him what she had told and heard from his dream form so many times before? Why couldn’t she just form the words, let them out and be done with it and move forward?

_Because for all your dreaming, this is the real flesh-and-blood deal. Dipper could say no._

Pacifica liked to think of herself as being an adept judge of character, of the reactions of others, but her time with the twins had seen them helping her to realize when she had overstepped boundaries, misread others and situations, and generally demonstrated an exceedingly  _poor_  lack of character. She’d realized that she could still adeptly find weaknesses, points of someone she was speaking with that she could press to make them uncomfortable and break and yield her the advantage in a conversation, but privately she’d realized that despite all the value Preston had always placed in these abilities when confronting others, she’d come to the conclusion they just made her look like an  _ass_  to others, especially to her friends.

This lent itself to the icy realization that while it  _seemed_  like Dipper reciprocated her affections, he might well have not have done anything of the sort, and she could have misread his actions entirely; After all, while he loved his sister and held her hand constantly, he never did anything like that with Wendy despite his loudly-stated crush. Perhaps it was just an illusion, a smokescreen to throw them all off the trail at the time?

No, that was almost impossible. Mabel had shown Pacifica the pictures she’d taken of Dipper and his “secret” glade he held kissing practice with a leafblower with. His sister had just shook her head with an odd degree of sympathy when he got his lips stuck to Wendy’s portrait, and thinking back on the scene it was a  _lot_  of unneeded (and painful) detail for Dipper to go into for just a ruse.

Poring over this incongruity had sent Pacifica into yet another tizzy of worry, her breath coming short and fast as she tried to convince herself that Dipper did like her, he did have feelings for her, and that confessing how she truly felt to him at dinner tonight would not in fact shatter their relationship into irreplaceable fragments.

Her self-convincing was only starting to have an effect when her phone began buzzing rhythmically in her pocket, signalling that it was time for her to head out to make sure she would be there on time. She had on jeans rather than a party dress, a simple shirt rather than a flowing gown, and was riding her bike rather than being chauffeured tonight.

Despite the banal clothes and transportation, Pacifica was more anxious and excited than she had ever been before, her anticipation lending her speed as the spokes of the former Tour-de-France bike whirred over the asphalt. She’d had to sneak out under her parent’s noses, although given how intently her father was planning the next Northwest Fest activities she doubted she’d be missed for the rest of the evening.

A few minutes of riding, and she locked up the bike outside of her destination, heart clawing its way up into her throat as she looked up at the erratically-blinking sign for Greasy’s Diner. She cautiously stepped inside, sighing in relief at the tiny crowd there; Apart from Lazy Susan, there was just one other pair of couples, an old man with blue-grey hair musing a brown bottle at the bar, and-

_Him._

Dipper gave her a little nervous smile and wave, and she raced over to sit across from him. Pacifica forced herself not to run her hands over her hair again, despite quickly brushing the windswept rebel strands into place before entering the diner, and while she knew three years of tutoring from the best makeup artists on the Paris runways didn’t go to waste, she could still feel her pulse race and she began to chew the edge of her lip as Dipper’s eyes widened.

“Wow, Pacifica,” he said in a hushed voice, making her start. “You…you look gr- No, you look _beautiful.”_

The words were said by one awestruck, like what she’d sometimes overhear people say regarding works of art when she’d visited the Louvre a few summers ago. While she knew she’d done a suitably adequate job with the makeup, a little part of her let out an internal thrilled giggle of excitement. Part of her memory raced to try and recall:  _Do I remember him ever saying that about Mabel before?_

She couldn’t recall him ever saying that, which made let out a little shocked laugh of amazed surprise. As soon as it slipped out she knew it was a mistake; Dipper’s face quietly fell in a way that felt like he’d screamed at her instead, and she began stammering uncontrollably as she tried to explain and reassure him.

“D-d-dipp-per, it-t’s all r-right.” She gave him a wide grin, blinking back tears of frustration at her lack of enunciation and control but not caring at all now that his honest smile of realization buoyed up her spirits as well. “I w-w-was just n-not exp-pect-”

She gasped as he reached out and gently placed his hands on hers, slowing their wild movements, and he just looked her straight in the eyes. Whether from shock or reassurance or both, Pacifica could feel her breathing calm, and her relief filled her words as she said “I just wasn’t expecting that compliment, but.. _.thank you_  Dipper.”

She looked him up and down for the first time since she’d entered the diner. He was wearing the same orange shirt and blue vest as he always did, further strengthening her theory that it was the only set of clothes he owned, but the shirt was clear of the usual small stains, a couple monster-claw holes had been crudely but carefully stitched together, and the vest was poofy and smelled faintly of flowers instead of squished mostly-flat and reeking of sweat and pine sap.

“You look quite handsome yourself,” she said, and could feel a little excited thrill run through her as she saw Dipper avert his eyes, blushing and smiling and letting out a little brief kitten-like squeak that they both giggled at.

The ice broken, the rest of the dinner continued as perfectly as Pacifica could have hoped for. Dipper told her stories of his adventures, while Pacifica regaled him with tales of her across-the-world travels she’d convinced her parents to send her on. It wasn’t until their food came that they reluctantly released each-other’s hand, and even as they ate and shared nibbles of food from their respective dishes their eyes kept meeting in the ways the cheap romance novels Mabel had lent her had always said they would.

Dessert came far too quickly, and after finishing Dipper got up first, offering her a gentlemanly hand up out of the booth seat. As she was helped up, Dipper gently pulled her towards him, and she closed the distance. Their faces inches apart, breaths hot and filled with worry and hope in equal measure, Dipper looked at her, his face unsure but his eyes widening in shock as Pacifica reached her hand behind his head to pull him the rest of the way into the kiss.

He tasted savory, a slight hint of mint from some lingering toothpaste or breath freshener mingling with the tang of the steak sauce from his dinner. Eyes still shut, Pacifica could smell a distinct musk that she hadn’t noticed before; It had a tang that reminded her of the forest, and sent a little shiver down her spine as his hand held her close in return.

They broke the kiss, both of them smiling happily with a hint of nervousness as they hoped with mutual fervency that no-one noticed the thirty-second near-makeout kiss they’d just shared-

 _“Whoooaaa_  there lovebirds!” The older guy from the bar held up his bottle in a mock salute, and Dipper just sighed and rolled his eyes. Pacifica stifled an embarrassed squeal when he had addressed them, and now just hung onto Dipper’s arm as he went up to pay at the counter, and he started to fish out his wallet when Susan read them the modest total.

 **BANG** _ting-ting-tingalingaling_.

The old guy with the blue-grey hair had jumped up, inserting himself between Dipper and the counter. He had slammed down a fistful of crumpled bills, a few errant coins escaping down the counter, as he belched and said “Th-there, that ought to do it, right sweetcheeks?”

Susan just shrugged, counted the money, and nodded before sticking it in the till. The man waved away the change she offered, and turned to Dipper, who had pushed Pacifica safely behind him as he glared down the drunk slob and balled his fist. “Aw man, I-I- _uuurp_  I’m so glad to see you two getting all chummy and along and stuff, so I wanted to cover your tab and-”

“Who are you?” Dipper said, his voice carrying worry, anger, and more than a healthy dollop of confusion. The man stopped, looking blankly between the two of them, and then facepalmed.

“Oh right! Totally forgot about Fordy’s whatchamajigger. Here, gimme a second-” The man began probing a greasy overlong finger around _through_  his stomach, before something went _bee-boop._  With a blue shimmer, the man disappeared, and Mabel was left in his place, a red-and-black belt strapped around her sweater and a smile from ear to ear on her face.

“Holo-suit! Grunkle Ford lent it to me,” she said dismissively, obviously and literally bouncing with excitement as she bear-hugged her friend and brother. “ _AAH,_  I’m so glad it worked and you two are just as much in lovey-for-realsies love as you are with me! YesyesyesyesYESYES _WHEEE!”_

Dipper and Pacifica just stopped, the confused smile turning to looks of mutual horror as their brains processed the Pines girl’s string of excited babbling. Dipper was the first to speak, stammering slightly and lying terribly as he said “Uh-heh-M-Mabel, I don’t-I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

She pulled back from the hug, her eyes narrowing to a judgemental stare that she swept between the both of them. “Dipper, I’ve known you since forever, and you suck at lying.” She put a hand on their shoulders, giving them a smile and a quick, warm kiss on each of their cheeks. “Guys, you’re my brobro and the sissis I never had; I love the snot out of you both too, in the heart-flutter music-in-the-background way too. But I couldn’t pick between you two, so I thought…” She stubbed a toe at the ground, avoiding their eyes for a moment.

Her smile had widened only a bit, but Pacifica could see her tone had become more vulnerable; She was telling the truth, the honest one, and was hoping they wouldn’t dash it and throw it back in her face. “I thought maybe if you two got together and hit it off, we could be an awesome love tri-” She paused, wrinkling up her face in the same way as Dipper just did, before carefully continuing. “An awesome love _tri-sided polygon_ , and then everybody could be happy.”

She met their eyes again, and Pacifica could see they were wet with tears. Her lip was bit, and Pacifica realized she was unconsciously mirroring the gesture as well. Dipper let out a little chuckle, murmuring “You never could just settle for half of the popsicle, could you Mabes?”

She giggled, smiling and shaking her head, and then dissolving into a choked laughing gigglefest as Pacifica and Dipper leaned forward, hugging Mabel close to kiss her on the cheek, both at once. Pacifica could feel her own eyes welling up, ignoring Lazy Susan’s expression of “Aww, how cute!” behind them.

This was everything she had ever hoped for, ever dreamed of, and she never wanted it to end.

 

 

 

 

**TO BE CONTINUED…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am taking a hiatus from writing new fluff/drabble installments for November for NaNoWriMo. Twice as Bright will continue with the second half come the start of December.
> 
> Tentative title: Half as Long


	6. Half as Long

She ran.

Behind her, Mabel could hear Dipper’s voice, calling her name. It had reached the edge of her hearing, almost an echo, when the faint noise of a car door slamming accompanied Pacifica’s voice. She was calling her name too, and Mabel had to shut it out, focus on the ember of hurt in her breast to avoid hearing the worry in their voices.

She had to keep running, stumbling over hidden roots in the fading twilight, tears streaming from her face as the branches whipped past her face and her own raging sob was strangled in her throat. She wanted to cry out, in pain and rage and hurt, but she also needed to be _alone_ , away from everything else that wasn’t her and her own thoughts, and _especially_ away from her brother and her best friend, the two people she thought she’d be able to count on beyond anything else in the world come hell or high water or Weirdmaggedon Two.

It had been so perfect.

Everything had been so perfect, like something she’d have expected out of the bubble Bill had trapped her in. For what must have been the hundredth time in the last few weeks, she bit her thumb, trying to snap herself out of the waking dream;  Before, it had been to make sure the bliss was real, but now a trickle of blood trailed from the edge of her mouth and mingled with the tears. She had wanted _this_ to be a dream, the waking nightmare that accompanied the too-good-to-be-true bubble’s reality.

Real life shouldn’t hurt like this. It _couldn’t_ hurt like this, could it?

Behind her Dipper’s faint echoing cry, now sounding more like a sobbing scream than a clearly shouted name at all, sounded off of the trees. She turned, running away from the echoes of her brother’s voice, screaming into the woods around her, demanding an answer from the unfeeling cedar branches that dappled the streaks of persisting sunlight.

It was a raw call, making her throat burn. One that was answered by only more echoes and some startled birds abandoning her for the purple sky.

 

* * *

 

**Two Weeks Earlier**

The last few days had been bliss. Dipper had never imagined that Mabel would have matched his affections, and the new feelings that had been blooming for Pacifica met and swirled within him like a fine chocolate and caramel swirl, filling him with a feeling of satisfaction he couldn’t recall having felt for years, maybe ever.

Everything felt right. Life felt rooted, solid, like he’d just found an anchor he wasn’t aware he was even missing in the first place. Mabel’s love for him as a sibling had always been there, but he could feel now a sense of balance, knowing that she felt the same way about him as he did about her.

That night, after Dipper and Pacifica’s date and when Mabel revealed that she knew how they felt about her, the three of them had made their way back to the Shack. The Grunkles were mercifully out for the evening for their bowling competition, and so the trio had retreated to the attic. The room, their home-away-from-home became their sanctuary as they kissed, explored each other with roving hands and lips and whispered pleas. Pacifica expressed surprise when she made her way down Dipper’s shorts, and there had been a moment of worried hesitation as both he and Mabel held their breaths, but Pacifica just grinned, kissing him and hugging him close as Mabel let out a happy squeal.

The night had been a blur, and the dawn came frustratingly quickly. Dipper was the first to awaken, feeling the comforter that had twisted around the three of them had trailed off of the bed where Mabel and Pacifica laid curled together, to him where he’d slid off of the bed and to the floor.

His aching back told him he’d probably slept like that for what little of the night he had slept at all, and the smell of bacon reminded him that the Shack was still occupied by someone other than the Pines twins and the heir of the Northwest family. Carefully, Dipper crouched up, clutching part of the sheet to him as he crept to the door and double-checked the lock.

He nodded slightly to himself in approval as he saw the lock was indeed latched, but as he turned he heard a shift of fabric and giggles. Pacifica was sitting up, watching Dipper’s mostly-nude form with a sly grin, her cascading blonde hair falling around her pale breasts like a golden shawl.

Beside her, Mabel groaned and sat up, her hair forming the unruly explosion of keratin it always did before she tried to tamp it down with a brush and water. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, letting out a slight peep of alarm as she saw Dipper, who was now grinning back at his sister as her gaze shifted to match Pacifica’s. Then Mabel’s eyes went wide in recognition, and laughing, Pacifica gave her a smooch before resting her head on her shoulder.

Then there had been the wrinkling of her nose as she detected the bacon, a happy grin that faltered as she saw Dipper’s look of concern.

“Uh, Mabes, we’re kinda obviously sporting the ‘just-rolled-out-of-bed’ look, and, uh, we didn’t let the Grunkles know we were having a sleepover.” He gave Pacifica an apologetic look, and she blushed a brilliant fiery red, a hand flying to her lips. Mabel just grinned, chuckling and saying “Y’all are worrying about nothing. Trust me, Mabel’s already on the case.”

Sure enough, everything had gone far better than even Dipper could have expected. He and Pacifica had hidden at the top of the stairs, listening in as Mabel struck up a conversation with Grunkle Stan. He hadn’t caught the beginning of it as Stan threw on a new sizzling rasher of pork, but then his ears pricked up as he heard Mabel say “So, anyhow Grunkle Stan, I, er, we invited Pacifica over for the night. Okay by you?”

Dipper exchanged a horrified look as Pacifica squeaked quietly in alarm: He knew Mabel was blunt, but this was far more direct than he would have ever dared to even think about being, but rather than the sound of frying pans being flung across the room and shouts of anger, Stan’s reply was calm. It was just as well, because Dipper could hear the hydraulics of the vending machine as it swung open and Ford’s measured stride could be heard clumping towards the kitchen.

“Heck, Mabel, that’s fine by me. You’re an adult, making adult decisions, and, _ugh_ , god knows I did crazier things when I was drifting through the French Quarter before they served me that warrant in Louisiana.”

Ford’s voice carried across the room “Oh? Crazy how so? Morning, Mabel!”

“Morning Grunkle Stan! I was just checking if it was all right that Dipper and I had Pacifica over for the night?”

A second frightened squeak emitted from Pacifica, and Dipper was fairly sure that his jaw was sitting on the hardwood banister at this point. Was there _anyone_ Mabel wasn’t planning on telling? Was she just going to do an interview piece for Toby Determined and just shout it from the water tower for everyone to hear?

“Oh! Well, I’m sure that’s fine as long as you all are being responsible. Trust me, this dimension is positively _tame_ compared to what you’ll see in other dimensions. When the norm is to self-fertilize with diamonds made from your dead clones’ ashes, heh, give me a call!”

Dipper shared a look of shuddering disgust with Pacifica as Ford continued. “And speaking of which, how did the holo-suit work?”

Mabel’s giggle of excitement echoed upstairs. “It worked like a charm! Does it randomly generate the disguise each time then? That blue-haired guy blended in perfectly!”

There was the sound of the frying pan being placed onto a stove burner, and from the tone of voice Dipper could picture Stan with his hand on his hip and one eye narrowed. “Hey, blue hair? That sounds a lot like-”

“No, no-one! No-one you’d know Mabel, dear,” came Ford’s hurried reply, and a disbelieving “Hmm” from Stan.

“Just an old acquaintance of mine…ours, from days long past,” he continued. Stan’s “Hmm” became a disproving “Hmph,” and the sound of sizzling meat returned. “I told you he was bad news, Ford. Trust me, a con man always recognized one of their own.”

 _“In any case,”_ Ford replied forcefully, before his voice became sweet again. “Mabel dear, just return it to me once you’ve finished recharging it, ok?” There was an affirmative noise, and Mabel ran back to gesture for Dipper and Pacifica to come into the kitchen.

That breakfast had gone swimmingly, and Pacifica had managed to sneak back to the mansion before anyone at home had realized she was gone. Dipper felt a pang of sympathy for anyone whose parents would miss them being gone for a full half-day, but on the flipside it meant that there was no reprimand or grounding to await her, as she eagerly told them in a call a few hours later.

The next day was a blur filled with odd points of clarity, as they helped Stan run the gift shop for the Shack. Afterwards, Dipper couldn’t name how much product they’d sold, or how many customers they had, or even the appearance of any one tourist to save his life; They all melded into a colorful blur, moving almost in slow motion around the stark focus that was his sister. Her smiles, whether to him or an inquiring customer, lit up the room. Her smiles to him especially caused him a faint fluttering, in his stomach where it split to send a few flutters down southwards, especially when she gave him a saucy wink, but mostly to his chest, where they fluttered and nested and warmed his core.

He felt like he could bench-press a Manotaur, like bullets and arrows would bounce right off. Her smile wasn’t all that different from those she’d given him weeks earlier, at least not to anyone else, but to them, it was filled with little nuances, crinkles around the edge of her eyes that were true happiness, the kind he knew both of them hadn’t really had in years, and that Dipper suspected neither of them had actually experienced in a relationship.

That night, Pacifica had managed to escape her parents for another evening, and this one was spent snuggled together, watching old movies until the excitement of the day drew them to sleep.

That night they slept, together, arms over each other and entangled in a happy mass, and when Mabel had woken from a nightmare that night, she only had to look down to see them all cuddled together to feel reassured, to know she was safe and surrounded by the people she loved most in the world.

That night Mabel slept a sound and happy sleep, the pale light of the moon filtering through the window as she felt unconsciousness drift back over her mind.


	7. Chapter 7

Pacifica finally felt complete. It was an odd feeling, given her family’s wealth and tendency to buy anything they looked at for longer than thirty seconds, but nevertheless that was what she felt as the three of them sat drying themselves on the docks of the lake.

Dipper was the first to move, getting up and grabbing a trio of ice-cold Pitts from the cooler on shore. Pacifica rolled over and sat up on her elbows to give him a quick kiss, as he knelt to hand her a can. Mabel was still on her back, a rumbling snore echoing across the lake. The other two snickered, but as Dipper went to lean over her to put the can by her hand, Mabel suddenly animated, cackling “Sneak attack!” as she grabbed Dipper’s arm and pulled him to give her a smooch.

Laughing, Dipper nearly stumbled forward and off into the lake, but caught himself as he wiped his mouth with a sleeve, coming away with a spear of glitter lipgloss on the fabric. Shrugging, he pulled off the shirt, tossing it into a heap before sitting down between Mabel and Pacifica. While he used to almost never go without a shirt, the last few years he had finally gotten comfortable with going shirtless, something Pacifica was certainly enjoying as a light sheen of sweat glittered in the sunlight.

She felt secure, next to the two people she loved more than her literal family. Preston and Priscilla had only given her physical things: Jewelry, clothing, cars, artwork. But they had never given her affections, beyond chaste kisses and hugs that held the same emotion as Preston would show at a ribbon-cutting for a new development: Empty smiles, with no warmth and an underlying feeling of it being an unwanted show rather than an actual meaningful gesture.

Now, though, her mind was filled with memories of them together, their time over the last few years feeling like that had always been her life, alongside the twins as if she was a third sibling of some sort. When she’d said as much to Mabel last summer, her mood had darkened and she briefly explained that Dipper, for a while, had such a sibling before disaster struck. Pacifica understood it was a sensitive subject and didn’t bring it up again, but she couldn’t help but wonder if Dipper saw her as a sibling, someone he was close to that he didn’t need to worry about disappearing in a splash.

Her eyes opened in a flash as she felt a pair of arms under her shoulders grab her, hoisting her into the air with a squeak of protest before with a light toss the Pines twins tossed her into the lake. As she surfaced, sputtering, a second pair of splashes soaked her face again as the siblings laughed and cannonballed into the icy lake.

While they proceeded to have an enjoyable waterfight, as the sun dimmed and they dried off with some stashed towels, Pacifica hissed as she felt the tinge of what she knew already would be a peeling sunburn the next morning. She groaned as the realization that her dive had washed off her sunscreen, and began rooting around for a tube of aloe before she looked up. She started slightly, as Dipper was smiling and holding the tube in front of her face, with a slightly apologetic and slightly mischievous smile as he muttered “Looking for this?”

Pacifica nodded, and then closed her eyes and hummed happily as Dipper wordlessly motioned for her to turn around. There was the snapping of a lid, and then she giggled in surprise and happiness as she felt his hands begin to run along her back. This time they didn’t avoid the strap of her gold top, but rather ran underneath and fully smoothed the cooling gel along her too-warm shoulders and back.

Mabel’s voice murmured from near her ear “Hey now, what about me?” and a second pair of hands joined the first, running the aloe along Pacifica’s rapidly-reddening stomach and collarbone. These fingers too slipped slightly more under the fabric than was strictly necessary, causing Pacifica to giggle and flinch in surprise as she looked around hurriedly to see who had spotted them.

The only boat on the lake was nearly on the opposite side of it, the lone occupant little more than a speck. The dock and shore were both empty, and Tate’s cabin had a large sign hung across the door; Squinting, Pacifica could make out _“Off for family reunion for the weekend.”_

Still, her sense of embarrassment caused her to shy back from the increasingly-exploratory hands of the twins, and she smiled, giving them a brief kiss on the cheek. They smiled, but Mabel’s shoulders slumped slightly as she gave a mock pouty lip.

“Aww, I didn’t even get a good tan! How else am I supposed to get supple hands to lather me?” Pacifica giggled, and Dipper just smiled and sighed before giving his sister a gently admonishing look. “Mabes, we _do_ have that glitter massage oil you bought this morning-” and there was a squeal of excitement as she grabbed Dipper and Pacifica in a bear hug. Pacifica, admirably, stifled a scream of pain, instead nodding frantically until the fiery deathgrip was released.

Sprinting towards the car, Mabel shouted back “Last one there is a rotten egg!” Chuckling, Dipper gave Pacifica a smile before they began running for the car as well.

 

 

 

A visit to Greasy’s for a quick dinner later, and the mandatory stop at the pet store so Mabel could get her fill of petting puppies. The selection was slimmer than usual, in a literal as well as figurative sense given the lone dachshund they had for sale. Dipper had noticed some terrarium supplies he wanted to get a closer look at, while Pacifica had to use the ladies’ room, so Mabel was outstanding on the sidewalk alone when she heard a pattering noise near her.

Turning, Fiddleford McGucket was looking at her, his eyes full of concern at her solitude. Then, without breaking eye contact he began slapping various parts of his body or the ground he was squatting on, and Mabel had to stifle a giggle. “Sorry, Fidds. I still don’t know hambone.”

He cackled, raring up an arm to give her a hearty slap on the back, before he slowed to give her a reassuring pat on her suddenly-tensed arm. “Oh, s’quite all right, Miss Pines! Waiting for your sweetheart?”

She blushed, not aware she had been that obvious. He smiled, a genuine if somewhat unfocused expression. Peering into the shop, he cackled again. “Well spank me sideways, I do believe your little honeydews are on their way out now!”

Mabel turned, and felt herself pale when she saw Pacifica and Dipper looking over a basin full of stuffed toys, and realized what McGucket had said. She spun to him, and started to stammer “Y-you knew?”

He grinned and gave her a wide wink. “Old Fiddleford doesn’t miss much, that’s for darn tootin’!” There was a smile again rather than the judgement and Mabel forced herself to relax the tension in her shoulders and return the smile. While Fiddleford did tend to ramble quite a bit, few listened, and as a result their secret was likely still completely safe.

As he looked back into the shop, Mabel could see his smile had changed, subtly but with a note of distant sadness on top of the genuine happiness. She’d rarely seen the old coot as anything but boisterous and excited, and the quiet, solemn man before her suddenly seemed to be ancient and worn, and his little sigh made him seem all the older.

“Uh, Fidds? Mr. McGucket? What’s wrong?”

His gaze snapped back to her, as if remembering she was there for the first time, and he just chuckled and sniffled, wiping at his eyes with a dirty corner of his coverall. The coverall came away damp, and she saw his eyes were wet with soundless tears tears.

“What? Oh, oh little miss Pines, nothing for you to worry your little head about. I’ve got all manner of memories clattering around in here, and they just happened to shake out some sad ones at the moment. Nothing for you to worry…” He went to turn back to the window, looking in at Dipper and Pacifica as they stood in the checkout line, and sniffled.

Mabel placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, causing him to turn again, and said “Fidds, what? You can tell me,” punctuating the reassurance with a little smile. Fiddleford sniffed again, wiping his nose this time on the overused coveralls, looking off towards the edge of town where the Mystery Shack lay concealed in the trees, before shrugging with a little hoarse cough. “I…well Miss Pines, I don’t want to be a stormy raincloud on you and yours. It’s just…”

He trailed off, his hand pressing against the glass for a minute before turning to look at her with a sad smile. “Just remember to make the most of it, you hear? For…for however long it lasts.”

Then he turned, and began striding away with his odd lilted gait, as Dipper and Pacifica came bursting out of the shop.

“Surprise!” Mabel suddenly found a stuffed squeaky pig shoved into her face, causing her to squeal and do a little dance of excitement as Pacifica and Dipper laughed. “Oh, he’s so precious, he looks just like Waddles did, oh my goodness he’s adorable!”

Laughing, the three of them piled back into Dipper’s truck and set off towards the Shack. As they passed McGucket, Mabel couldn’t help but remember his words, his tears, and couldn’t quite bring herself to smile as she watched him look at her as they passed.

 

 

 

The three of them were curled up, massages forgotten as they watched and grinned as the TV flickered in the dark room.

_“Quack? Quack quack. Quaaaaack.”_

_“Dear god, Ducktective! Then that must mean-”_

_“Aha! It is I, the butler turned cook turned dastardly assassin! Face me, Ducktective!”_

The old monitor flickered with the action scene as the trio giggled and cheered, the Ducktective reruns nearly halfway through as the moon shone through the window. Mabel smiled, sighing as she felt the weight of the day lift away.

McGucket’s warnings had her worried, but now, after the three of them had been rejoined and the laughter had begun to flow again, she felt more worried and sorry for him. What did he go through, that seeing the three of them so happy together had brought up bittersweet memories like that?

She sat back against Dipper, turning her head to give him a quick kiss on the neck. He hummed appreciatively, before kissing the top of her forehead. She then turned and gave a similar kiss to Pacifica as she’d received from Dipper, causing Pacifica to tilt her head backwards, nearly knocking Mabel in the nose as she stole a quick kiss on the lips.

The two of them broke into giggles as Dipper just raised a bemused eyebrow, and Mabel draped her arms around Pacifica as she felt Dipper rest his arms on her thighs. Ducktective performed another stunning jiu-jitsu takedown of one of the villain’s henchmen, and the three of them cheered as Pacifica passed the bowl of popcorn back to the twins.

Mabel slumped, smiling and feeling warm, surrounded by her lovers and friends and siblings. A little sigh escaped her lips, her eyes drifting shut for a brief moment before returning to watch the show.

 

 

 

A few hours later, and the TV was silent. The living room was empty, a rough trail of unwittingly-hidden popcorn bits marking a trail to the stairs up to the attic. There, silent snoring can be heard, the shuffle of fabric as a leg twitches in a dream or an arm reaches to scratch an itch.

There is a gasping intake of breath, as Pacifica sits bolt upright, heart pounding as her eyes filled with tears. It was another nightmare; Her parents had left her at a mall, leaving like they so often did to shop and flaunt, but this time, like all the nightmares before, they didn’t return. Instead the mall became taller, the strangers walking by not warming or threatening her but just ignoring her, as if she were a ghost. Her cries were always ignored, echoing in the labyrinthine maze of the mall’s corridors and empty shops, until even the strangers had disappeared and she was left by herself in the fluorescent hellscape.

Sleep was still pressing, so after a last shuddering breath she sniffed, and laid back down on her side between the two twins. Shivering for a moment, Pacifica curled close to Dipper’s sleeping form, spooning against him as she felt her breathing slow, and the darkness overtook the moonlight.


	8. Chapter 8

It was raining, a rumble of thunder echoing distantly through the trees, and for what must have been the fourth or fifth or sixth or god knows how many nights, Mabel couldn’t sleep.

She sat back against her headboard, already missing the warmth of Pacifica even as Dipper held her close in his sleep. She had to go home, to the Northwest manor, a place that seemed more like a prison than ever before. Mabel understood, and she and her brother both would reassure Pacifica that it would only be a few more months, a little more than a year before she’d be free of her parents and able to stay away as long as she wanted.

Forever, if she wanted to.

It was odd, she thought as she rested her head against the wood to look up into the shadowed rafters. Mom and Dad pines were sweet, if a bit oblivious, but loving in their own way. Mabel had hundreds of great memories, and she knew Dipper had just as many; Of family campouts, trips, adventures in their own little ways. Pacifica had none of that; She had wealth to dwarf everything Mabel and Dipper and all of the Pines had a dozen times over, but precious few things besides…things.

She hugged Dipper close, wishing it was Pacifica she could hold as she knew she badly wanted and needed. She acted tough, but Lady Mabelton was a keen-eyed detective, and she could see how much Pacifica valued when she could participate in family activities with their Grunkles. For their parts, Stan and Ford must have taken notice at some point as well, as they’d started including and inviting Pacifica by default on trips to the bowling alley or the lake or a family dinner to Greasy’s.

Still, Mabel could see how much Pacifica loved her and her brother, and how much their newly-realized relationship had meant. It meant no more secrets, no more hiding words and thoughts between close friends and closer siblings. Mabel had felt strangled by them, unable to voice her feelings for Dipper for fear of rejection by him and condemnation, exile by everyone else she had ever known. Knowing he felt the same way, had the same worries and reservations initially, had somehow made perfect sense; It was as if she had placed the final place into a silver puzzle, realizing it was a mirror of his feelings and hers and how that perfect symmetry clicked into place all at once in a starburst of relief and joy.

Pacifica was a newer part of her feelings she’d been coming to grips with: It wasn’t until she realized that her friend had a crush on her, a major not-just-puppy-love but full-on great-dane-love, that she’d started to realize she felt and treated Pacifica the same way as she did Dipper. There was a difference, of course, as Dipper had been her twin, her soulmate for more than a decade before the twins even met Pacifica, but the more she looked into her feelings, her actions, the more she realized how similar they were in her heart and when she imagined them.

The final piece of the puzzle had been Dipper and Pacifica, of course. Mabel had suspicions, nothing solid beyond her sisterly intuition, but careful sowing of nudges and meetings had blossomed what she had hoped would bloom. The three of them couldn’t have been happier, and yet…

…She was worried. Everything seemed perfect, to the point of almost-daily pinch-checks to see if she was still trapped in Bill’s bubbleverse. Even so, the nagging thought that something was off, that this relationship was going to come crashing down around her head like a glass sculpture made her shiver.

As if on cue, the thunder cracked in unison with a flash of lightning, the howling wind picking up now and clicking the shutters of the window. She flinched, pulling closer to Dipper, who mumbled and groaned in his sleep.

Her paranoia had probably been sparked by Old Man McGucket, but the insidious thing about paranoia was that you never knew what was real and what was being exaggerated. She couldn’t voice her concerns to Dipper and Pacifica; Dipper was the only one she had told about McGucket’s words, and he had looked worried, before bolstering his own hope and giving her a reassuring smile. _“Hey there, Mabes, chin up; It’s just Fidds being his usual apocalyptic hillbilly self. You, me, Pacifica: We’re not going anywhere, all right?”_

The words had helped, but the fears nagged and persisted. She didn’t bring them up again, feeling like she was being silly and would just get more of Dipper feeling sorry for her and Mabel making herself feel just as worried and upset as she was to start with. The last thing she wanted was to feel patronized, and while that’s not what Dip would ever want to do, what Dipper intended and what Dipper did could be two very different beasts indeed.

Pacifica was even less of an option, because while Mabel figured she’d get a warmer response, it would just be the same as she’d get from Dipper, but buried under Pacifica’s worry and caution. Pacifica had been slowly getting more cautious as she met with the twins, guarding her words, her smiles, her laughter just a tiny bit. Mabel noticed, but Pacifica had been evasive when she’d asked her about it. She hadn’t pressed the point, but had realized what it was: Pacifica was worried she would do something, say something that would alienate her friends, her lovers.

It was a new relationship, and while they had been friends for years, but lovers for only this brief interlude of barely a newborn month.  New relationships always had a learning phase, even among dear friends, as everyone adjusted to each other; Mabel supposed with her and Dipper it was faster due to their twinhood, but Pacifica had been cautious, giggly around her and Dipper but not as daring as she was before they had united. It was almost as if-

_No, Mabel. That’s the paranoia talking._

The little black whispering doubts and fears in her mind would whisper that Pacifica loved Dipper, and Mabel was just an accessory, or that Dipper loved the “new girl” more than his predictably wacky sister. It was nonsense, of course, but the nagging doubts still filled her nightmares, caused her to imagine Dipper and Pacifica disappearing into the distance as Mabel was left behind, alone, so terribly alone.

She tamped them down, but predictably, they rose back up, as they always did. Whispers that said the buzzing in Pacifica’s pocket was a text from Dipper, and that Dipper chuckling as he played around on his laptop at night was from messages from Pacifica, love written in words not meant for their sister and best friend.

It was all she could do to clamp them down this time, pushing them aside, remembering the happy times they’d had at the lake, at the arcade, at the park, in the woods, just a few days ago, yesterday, this morning. Her mind coiled back, striking like a snake as it hissed memories of the two of them being out of her sight for moments; Not long enough for anything but a fleeting kiss, but long enough for that at least.

Eyes filling with tears, she gritted her teeth, grinding the palms of her hands against her face as she held back a frustrated scream. Paranoia was Dipper’s realm of expertise, not hers. Mabel had never been paranoid before…

…but of course, she’d never been in love like this, truly _happy_ like this. Not before, at least: High school boys obsessed with getting their hands down pants and sticking a tongue down a throat rather than giving a shit about what sweater you were wearing that day or what stickers you had put on the note sent to them. Dipper and Pacifica were different.

Dipper was kind, gentle, like a warm bear almost. He would curl around her like he was now, sheltering them both from the storms and winds both real and imagined. His touch was rough but gentle, the hairs not being too coarse to be painful but not too sparse as to be unnoticed, his mouth was musky and carried the hint of sweet from the occasional candies he still snuck from her stash. His presence was just there, undeniable, firm and slow and yet powerful; He wasn’t muscular, not quite as much as Grunkle Stan, but still firm and hard and unyielding as she would mold against him in her passion.

Pacifica, she was another deal entirely. Like a beautiful evening flower, she always needed to be coaxed out of a shell, the one she had built up around herself to protect against the world and her parents especially, but within was a genuine, loving person the likes of which Mabel had rarely seen. There was almost a childish aspect to it, the newfound wide-eyed wonder of someone who had been so afraid to let themselves fully experience life that they simply never had. Seeing that golden girl emerge from her cocoon, that was always a joy for Mabel, every time. Pacifica was passionate, fast, hard, but utterly devoted in her return of affections both polite and risque. Mabel had given and consequently received kisses that she would remember until her hair went grey, and that curiosity translated into insatiable excitement when the clothes began to fall like petals on the attic floor.

Mabel sighed, cuddling up closer to Dipper, and wishing again that Pacifica was here. For now, at least, the nightmares faded, and the hiss of the wind was all she could hear.

 

 

 

There was a rumble of thunder, an ugly noise that rattled the wood. Mabel shifted, something nagging at her, and she felt behind her only to grab a handful of sheets.

She leaned up, muttering a confused “Dipper?” as she looked behind her. Dipper was gone, his side of the bed still warm and the indent of his shape against the mattress still giving her a whiff of his smell.

Curious, she got to her feet, and could see there was no light from across the hallway in the bathroom. Little whispers of the nightmares poked forward.

_He’s gone._

_He left you._

_You’re all alone now._

She shook her head, still unsure of if she was actually awake, when she heard the thump of the door to the Shack below her. She ran to the window, and saw Dipper running across the windy field, and towards the woods.

Mabel felt her blood go cold when she saw a figure there. The shape was indistinct, dark against the dark trees, but a crack of thunder illuminated Pacifica’s face for an instant. She started breathing, great ragged gasps as the nightmares closed in. Looking around, Mabel just ran for the stairs, wondering when all of this would melt under her feet or turn to the biting ragged maws that always erupted from her nightmares before.

The door to the Shack yielded to her hand, and the field was empty. The wind was howling past, cold and warm in the summer heat as the first raindrop ticked against the wood porch. She ran, barefoot through the tall grass, towards the edge of the trees, where she had seen Pacifica.

Part of her, most of her, was screaming at her to go back to bed, to curl back next to Dipper, and let this nightmare fade like so many others had before. But part of her…

Part of her was afraid that his bed really was empty, and that her brother was somewhere in the woods ahead.

She ran, twigs snapping under her feet and jabbing at her soles, as she followed the rough trail. She didn’t know how long she ran, only that the rain had started to come down, the chill not yet seeping in as strands of hair began to swirl around her in the rushing winds. Finally, she stumbled around a set of rocks, coming to the overlook for Gravity Falls, the fallen tree that she begged all the powers of the universe would be empty and damp and mock her worried mind.

 

 

 

Instead, she saw two shapes, illuminated by the crack of a white ribbon of lightning over the town.

 

 

 

Dipper, his face against Pacifica as he kissed her, a degree of bliss on both of them that Mabel had though was reserved for the three of them in their private moments.

She choked back a sob, disguised by the thunder that sounded like the mocking laughter of the gods. Dipper and Pacifica broke the kiss, and they _laughed,_ laughed into the face of the storm as Mabel stood a dozen paces behind them, feeling the cold chill of the rain, the rumble of the fading echo of the thunderclap in her breast, and the hot tears streaking little lines of fire down her face as her neck felt like a giant had wrapped his hand around it and _squeezed._

She turned, not caring if they saw, and began running. She wanted to be away, and yet some part of her wondered if she was still imagining things, despite every sense she knew of being as alive as a raw nerve, thrumming with pain and making her body ache.

Her feet led her through the downpour, the rain only partially mitigated by the trees, and when the trunks of cedar and pine cleared, the dim lights of the Mystery Shack pierced the gloom. The rain had finally begun to slow, and she made her way across the grass lot as the rain dripped, slowing to a gentle downward patter instead of the typhoon fury that had been thrown sideways by the hot wind.

The door was still unlocked, and she went inside, feeling like she was watching someone else dictate her movement, direct her steps as she ascended the stairs, made her way to the attic bedroom, dried herself quickly with a tower to stop the dripping, and sat back in bed. She curled up, more than ever wishing she had imagined it, that it was a nightmare, a horribly vivid nightmare of a cruelty and sadistic nature she just hadn’t thought her subconscious would torture her with. Dipper’s divot in the mattress still remained, now cold and smelling of the musty attic rather than anything else. She closed her eyes, wishing he had been there to greet her with a curled hug and a kiss, and, eyes still wet despite the easing rain, she eventually fell asleep.

She stirred fitfully, not fully waking up, when Dipper returned to the bedroom some time later, curling up to Mabel and hugging her close to him, kissing her cheek gently, and falling asleep as he murmured “Love you, Mabes” with a loving smile on his face.


	9. Chapter 9

It had started with a little flashing light, a chat message on FaceSpace, blinking Pacifica’s llama logo she’d used for most of her online avatars nowadays. He remembered it had seemed odd that she hadn’t used their group chat, the one he and Mabel and Pacifica were already chatting in, discussing how Ducktective 2: Revenge of the Twin hadn’t lived up to the trailers.

_**Paxy:** Hey Dipper?_

_**Dipdop:** Yeah, Pacifica? What is it?”_

Next to that window was the group chat, and he could see Pacifica’s reply to Mabel.

_**LadyMabelton69:** Yeah, but what about the helicopter scene? That seemed promising._

_**Paxy:** It was cool, but the CG was so bad the pixels were the size of my fist._

He shot a look up, seeing his sister poking away at her phone, giggling in unison with the _bleedoop_ notification sound it made with Pacifica’s reply. He saw the ellipses indicating Pacifica was typing, and felt his stomach churn in worry when her reply popped up in the separate channel.

_**Paxy:** Does…does Mabel really like me? You know her better than me, and I can’t tell sometimes if she really likes me back, or is just humoring me. :(_

He felt a little sad smile tug the corner of his mouth, and started typing only to stop a moment later. He thought, and could feel little black tendrils of doubt poking at him. After Bill’s possession, he’d decided to get a few counselling sessions, with the funding and encouragement from Grunkle Ford, and had learned to recognize and control his rampant paranoia and anxiety to some degree, but it wasn’t perfect. His psychiatrist Dr. Eloo had warned him about this, and Dipper was grateful for the self-confidence, but still wished at times like this he could sift through what was reasonable fear and what was his rampant imagination.

He started a bit as Pacifica replied again.

_**Paxy:** ?_

That one character summarized Dipper as well. He was terrible at reading people, and while sometimes he could see right through his sister, other times she could keep secrets from him better than anyone else alive. He could almost never fool her, while she had apparently inherited Grunkle Stan’s deadpan face for lies and pranks.

Truth be told, he hadn’t considered and been watching Mabel and Pacifica with the intention of looking for flaws. Sure there were the common checks to make sure this last few weeks weren’t just a Bill bubbleverse, and he had certainly been glad to find a lack of any other suspiciously-fortuitous coincidences. However, his memory wasn’t perfect and he detested on relying on it for situations like this. But as Pacifica’s reply popped up again, the _bleedoop_ focusing him on the blinking blue, he tried to wrack his mind.

_**Paxy:** Dipper?_

The other window chimed a notification as well, and he quickly scanned over it before looking back to Pacifica’s.

 _Well, Mabel does seem closer to me than Pacifica, but I feel like that’s because of her having literally grown up alongside me, and we’ve been ridiculously inseparable._ He nodded slightly to himself, but then frowned slightly. _On the other hand, Mabel does seem more ‘touchy-feely’ with me than her, even after accounting for Pacifica’s weird twitchiness about that sort of stuff._

He quickly typed a reply, opting for honesty and speed rather than continue to worry Pacifica with his silence. She was replying back and forth with Mabel about the movie still, but he suspected she was still anxiously awaiting his reply.

_**Dipdop:** Honestly, Pacifica, I don’t know. Sometimes Mabel’s easy to read, sometimes not, and while I think she loves the snot out of you, I don’t live in her head._

He paused, grimacing a little before adding more.

_**Dipdop:** Plus, after what I saw with the equilateral asshole that summer, I don’t want to get into her head. That probably wouldn’t turn out well for anyone._

He smiled at the screen, as there were a few seconds of inactivity, followed by a brief reply.

_**Paxy:** Heh, yeah. Definitely understand that._

He was about to close the window, when he saw the ellipses of Pacifica typing appear again.

_**Paxy:** Do you think I could talk to you in person about this sometime? It feels kind of weird talking about something so important through stupid FaceSpace chat._

He froze, squishing down a little indignant voice from the back of his mind that for some reason thought this was a bad idea to just meet and talk.

_**Dipdop:** Definitely. Greasy’s at 4 tomorrow?_

_**Paxy:** Sure! See you then Dipper!_

He leaned back, itching the twin scars on his chest as the cotton t-shirt irritated them for the umpteenth time, and noticed that Mabel was looking towards him with her head tilted. He smiled broadly at her, feeling a little tingle of nervous apprehension at seeing Pacifica.

_I hope she understands, and I think she will. Mabel’s always reasonable, and in a month or two I can tell her about these concerns without worrying Mabel will do what Mabel does and go off to try and talk to Pacifica directly. Paxy would be too nervous to be honest with Mabel, and Mabel’s sometimes not the best at knowing how much open and brutal honesty is too much._

He leaned back stretching his neck in his hands as he looked up to the dry musty rafters.

_Yeah, this is a much better idea._

_This has been an unmitigated disaster, in every sense of the term,_ Dipper thought as he picked his way over another tree branch, silently cursing himself for not grabbing a flashlight on his way after Mabel.

That whole day, something had been off. She had barely made eye contact with him all morning, glancing at him with little half-smiles but then just as quickly looking away. He had tried asking her a few times what was wrong, each time getting brushed off with a  “Nothing, nothing,” as she turned away to do some other task, always in a different part of the Shack from Dipper.

Lunch had been in silence also, to the point where even Grunkle Stan noticed and asked if she was okay. She had nodded, giving him a smile, but then her gaze had sunk back to her tomato soup, and Dipper could tell Stan didn’t press any further despite seeing how hollow the smile really was.

It was finally right after dinner that Dipper caught her in the attic, looking through their scrapbook for that summer. He could feel a sense of impending doom, that rushing noise in your ear and dimming of light all around you that feels and sounds like an invisible tsunami is arching to crash over you and wash away your stability. Mabel never looked at her scrapbooks, not like that, not since…

He stopped in the doorway, an icy bead of sweat trickling down his neck. She didn’t turn around, but the boards under his feet creaked like a nightingale floor, and in a wavering voice she said “D-Dip? I-I-I need you to tell m-me the truth, ok-okay?”

He swallowed, nodding before remembering she was facing away from him and saying in slightly too-high voice “Sure, Mabel. What’s…what’s been bothering you?”

Finally Mabel turned to face him, and he could see her face was puffy red from crying, the tears burning hot slick streaks down her face. In a steady voice, she said:

 “Are we still… _us?”_

He cocked his head, feeling a wave of confusion quickly overtaken by a wave of realization, and said “Us? Mabes, we’ll _always_ be us. Remember?”

She stood, holding the scrapbook in one shaking hand. “If we’re always us, then what was last night, huh? Was that… _us?!”_ Her voice had risen to a near-scream at the end, overlying a waver that belied a sob trying to escape.

Dipper had started to walk towards her, but froze, and could feel and hear a faint tinkling noise as his immaterial fears suddenly crystallized. Little impish reminders poked and prodded him, pointing out the hundreds of times he could have stopped, could have slowed and refused what had blossomed, or exposed for Mabel to participate in.

One particularly insistent thought sprang to the forefront and operated his mouth before he could stop himself, and half in shock he heard himself say “What do you mean last night?”

Mabel froze now too, making a growling noise that raised in pitch as she lifted the scrapbook over and behind her head, ready to throw, before it dropped from her fingers to the floor, and her shoulders shook once in a muffled, squeaking cry.

Dipper started to go over to her, to hug her close, apologize for all of this, for the deceptions and omissions, to pick up her scrapbook and try and reassure her the best he could.

It was then that they both could hear the starting refrains for _Chasing Trucks_ by Ice Patrol blaring out on Dipper’s phone. 

The personal ringtone they both knew was the one he had for Pacifica.

Mabel glared at him, her eyes bloodshot and trying to squeeze back more tears as he started to say “She’s-she’s probably calling us both, and your phone will be ringing any seco-”

His sister’s hand shot out like a bullet, gripping her pink cellphone so hard her knuckles were turning white. She took long shuddering breaths, as Dipper’s phone continued to sing about true happiness and unspoken love, her phone remaining dark and silent. Dipper prayed, willing every fiber of his being for Mabel’s phone to start ringing or for his to stop, but the song went on for ten, then thirty seconds, until finally the sound died and left the attic echoing silence.

He felt more than saw as Mabel strode past him, bumping his shoulder without caring, flatly saying “I guess that’s it then,” and exciting the doorway behind him.

By the time he had turned to follow, she had already started running down the stairs and towards the woods.

 

 

 

The last leeched rays of yellow had faded from the sky, leaving the purple and blue to illuminate the trail. Dipper followed, more on instinct than anything else, far outpacing Pacifica who was some ways behind him. She called for him to slow down so she could catch up and help, but some part of Dipper realized it would be better if he found Mabel, to minimize the trainwreck of damage the two of them had wrought on his sister.

He also didn’t want Pacifica to see his tears; Fat wet blobs that blurred his vision and made an already-difficult job even more painstaking. On some level, he realized his biggest mistake was not putting everything in the open. The diner visit had turned into another, had turned into a dinner at The Club, had turned into a visit to the beachside of the lake, had turned into a hot and humid night in Pacifica’s bedroom when her parents had left to attend to some business in Salem. That night, he could feel the full development of both his feelings for the Northwest heir, as well as his nagging worries of what this would mean for them and Mabel.

He’d meant to broach the subject with Mabel, he really had, but there had never seemed to be a right time, never a good moment. She was always so _happy,_ so ecstatic with the three of them, and he didn’t dare shatter that for his sister, not in the middle of her being so excited.

And so he had put it off, first a day, then two, then a week had gone by and not a word was said. The end of summer loomed, and Dipper knew he’d have to say something, but not a word was spoken.

Not until today.

He finally found her, following the sobbing that echoed through the forest. Even the birds, gnomes, and other forest creatures seemed to understand that something was amiss and stay silent. The wind was the only other noise, gently shaking the pine boughs and scattering the occasional needle onto his shirt, as he pressed on and found his sister curled up behind a large boulder wedged beneath a berm of dirt and roots.

She looked at him, tears wetting her scratched and dirty cheeks, and with a snuffling huff, she turned over. She let out a little whimpering cry of pain, causing Dipper to duck down to check where her leg had flinched; Her ankle was swollen the better part of an inch on both sides, and he said “M-Mabes? Mabes, I think you t-twisted your ankle.”

She glared at him, eyes burning and shimmering to reflect the last few sparks of the sunset, and he gently reached down to scoop her into his arms, lifting her as she made a little noise of protest but closed her eyes tightly and didn’t move to stop him.

Pacifica rounded the corner, but as she opened her mouth to speak, Dipper shook his head violently. She looked, saw Mabel and her eyes widened somewhat, before she took a deep breath, nodding and turning to head back to the Shack.

Shortly after she went back through the trees, Mabel shifted in his arms as he stepped over the tree roots. Her eyes cracked open, looking at him with an apprehensive look, like she was afraid he would do something else to hurt her. He gave her a smile, a small and weak yet genuine one, and said softly. “Mabel…I love you.”

Her eyes widened, and she turned in his arms to watch the trail. He listened, his ears burning, but his sister was silent in return.


	10. Chapter 10

It was raining again, no longer crashing the thunder and wind it had the night before, but instead just leaving steady sheets of water against the windows.

Pacifica was alone, as Dipper was upstairs, trying to talk to Mabel, trying to break through the shell she had erected to keep them out. It used to be that she would just retreat to Sweater Town, pulling her head inside but still being open for talking, but now she just went silent, refusing to say anything, to make eye contact, to even acknowledge you existed.

The only time Pacifica had seen Mabel act this way was when Waddles had passed, and even that was only an hour or so. This was going on four and a half, and almost not recognizing it she stared at the clock, the red numerals spelling out _1:09 AM._ There was a creak of footsteps on the old boards above, and her head spun to the head of the stairs, but no-one was there. She sighed; She had been hoping to talk to one of them, preferably Mabel, to try and explain, to try and help her understand it wasn’t her fault.

The thought of even saying that to Mabel’s face, shining with tears of hurt, made Pacifica’s stomach churn again. She knew they had broken Mabel’s trust, but for some reason it just didn’t register, didn’t seem like anything more than a mischievous, naughty thing. Thinking back on it, and Pacifica could recall she had never fully realized, really thought what it would mean to Mabel if, or when, she found out.

Biting her lip, she could feel the thought twisting past her attempts to ignore it, stabbing her with the vile words of truth she didn’t want to hear.

_You didn’t think about it because you knew. On some level, you knew it was unforgivable, that you’d be breaking the trust of one of your only two friends. Was he worth it? Was he?_

She sighed, feeling her throat clench as she looked up to the empty stairway again.

_Did you trick him? Did you corrupt Dipper, cuckold his sister and put yourself squarely between the closest sibling bond you’ve ever seen?_

_Or did Dipper corrupt you?_

She shook her head, trying to shake out the thought. _She_ had been the one to message Dipper, but it was the honest truth that she was worried that Mabel wasn’t feeling the same way towards Pacifica as she felt towards her. _Still_ felt, although that feeling was dampened by guilt that weighed down on her like the rain pouring down outside.

But that first kiss, between just Dipper and her? Their heads had come together, and she had extended her lips to the halfway point between them and met Dipper’s. It had been amazing, the thought still making her shiver until her guilt flushed the memory with cold sorrow. They had met in the middle, and as much as Pacifica wanted to blame Dipper, or even more to blame herself as being the cause of their lives and love collapsing like this, as far as she could tell they were equally to blame.

It made Pacifica furious at herself, in an odd way: Why couldn’t _she_ have been the aggressor, the one leading the whole affair, pulling Dipper into kisses, running her hands along her without reciprocation, leading him by the hand into their flare of passion? At least then, when everything inevitably fell into the light, when Mabel found out, Pacifica would be the one she could direct her ire at, and spare Dipper the brunt of the blame.

But Mabel knew, or knew enough. She had seen an equal passion from both parties, and while Pacifica would never have thought it possible to wish for this a mere day ago, she wished with all her heart that she loved Dipper, and that he had not loved her back.

The wracking sob finally came, quickly stifled into a pillow as she felt furious at the tears stinging her cheeks. It was stupid, _stupid_ to think this; It was love, right? It had to be! What else would keep them up at night for hours, discussing their lives and plans for the future, and each-other’s place in it?

Again, the insidious thought wormed its way back into the forefront of her mind:

_But you three had those same talks, those same discussions of how your lives would carry on together. All you did was exclude Mabel; It wasn’t a new love, just an exclusionary one._

No, that couldn’t be right, it _couldn’t_ be. They had all talked together, true, but it had felt different , different from when it was just Pacifica and Dipper, sitting on the carpet of grass and pine needles, watching the constellations and just talking and enjoying the warmth and presence of each other.

 _But you were head-over-heels for Mabel at the start of summer, remember?_ She growled in frustration, the sound still muffled by goose down and gritted teeth. _Why would that fade?_

She felt the rushing in her ears as the little twinge in her gut became recognizable, the twinge she had every time she thought of Mabel these days, the last few weeks. It had started as a little feather-tickle, but now felt like someone had reached into her chest and squeezed, hard.

It was the same twinge she had felt towards others, on the exceedingly rare occasions when her parents didn’t buy her whatever she wanted immediately. It happened so infrequently that it was an alien thing, more akin to bad digestion than a feeling she could identify, but now she knew it for what it was.

Jealousy.

Mabel was everything Dipper wanted in a girl, and he had said that before. At the time she had nodded in agreement, but now Pacifica realized that she had been worried that Mabel was competing with her for Dipper. Maybe not consciously, but competing nevertheless through her mere presence, and Pacifica knew deep in her gut that in a fair fight, Dipper would always pick Mabel.

 _Why not? He was her brother, she was his sister, it was inevitable,_ she thought bitterly, the stinging tears returning. She had shoved Mabel away without realizing, to try and keep Dipper close, and in the process had ruined both loves; She feared Mabel and her reaction, but beneath all that was an ugly tinge of anger, of fear of rejection and an unspoken promise to reject in kind.

As for Dipper, she hoped beyond hope that he still loved her, but knew he would never forgive her for what she did to their relationship, for separating the twins like that. He had been a part of it, but it was always easier to blame someone else, and Pacifica at this point hated herself and what she had done enough to be willing to absorb that hate, that abuse in order to get the twins together again, to restore the lost love they once might have had, maybe.

And if that left Pacifica alone, rejected from the only friends she had ever known? Then she would do that, for them, to keep them happy. She owed them that much, and in a strange way it gave her a glimmer of pride that it was one more way she could prove she was different from her parents. They would never have sacrificed everything for anyone, even each-other, even Pacifica, and so she could at least leave that legacy.

As for what happened next, she would figure it out. The twins’ grunkles had lived alone for most of their lives, one of them in another dimension with no-one he could trust or seek for help, and the other in the same predicament but just surrounded by uncaring humans rather than uncaring alien monstrosities.

If they could adjust, survive alone and without help or pity, she could do the same. She could make everything right, and then make sure she couldn’t interfere, barge in and ruin a love that would already be hanging from threads if it ever was fixed at all. Pacifica could make these amends, at least.

She heard a creak of footsteps on wood, and looked up, ecstatic to see Dipper, when she saw who was at the top of the stairs:

Mabel.

She stood there in her pink oversized sleep shirt, stuffed pig gripped firmly in one hand, eyes still puffy from crying, breathing slowly, cautiously, like one would after running from monsters and nightmares.

 _Am I her nightmare now?_ Pacifica wondered, the thought making her heart feel like it had taken a thousand-foot plunge into burning ice. She let out a croak, before clearing her throat and softly letting out a gentle “Hi.”

Mabel approached, the creaking of the stairs sounding like the thunder absent from the rain outside. In a quiet voice, she looked back up to the attic, saying gently “He-Dipper’s asleep, and I, I w-wanted to…yeah.”

Pacifica met her gaze, reluctantly, unsure of what Mabel was thinking. She was never fully confident before, her shifting manic intensity meaning any one of a million thoughts could be flying through her mind, but now it could be anything: Love, hate, worry, fear, forgiveness, and condemnation could be equally guessed from her reserved expression.

Pacifica’s voice cracked as she finally spoke. _“I-I’m sorry, Mabel. I’m so, so sorr-”_ She stopped, surprised when Mabel put her finger to Pacifica’s lips. The physical contact was unexpected, and Pacifica took a half-step forward without thinking, only for Mabel to take a step back in turn, her expression falling.

Mabel shook her head, the brown curls swaying as she said “ _No_ , I…No. I’m sorry, Pacifica.” Pacifica just nodded, biting her lip before letting out another heartfelt _“I’m sorry.”_

There was a pause, both girls looking at anything but each-other, before Mabel quietly spoke.

“He said that too, that he was sorry, that it was his fault.” She must have seen Pacifica’s head shoot up, but before she could speak Mabel interjected. “You both want to protect the other; I can see you lo-…you l-love each other, very much.”

Pacifica felt like she was being raked over hot coals, and wanted to reach out, to hug Mabel and beg her forgiveness, to tell her that the bond she and her brother had eclipsed anything Pacifica felt towards Dipper. She had made a promise, to herself but a promise nonetheless, to make sure she helped restore the Pines twins.

When Mabel spoke again, it was quiet, level and sounding as if she had practiced saying it a dozen times in her head. Her voice was high and tight, and again Pacifica wanted to just squeeze her hand, let her know she was sorry she ever interfered in their love.

“Pacifica, I need you to promise me something. Ok?”

Pacifica looked up, unsure, but after a moment said “Of course, anything. Mabel, I’m so sorry for-”

Mabel’s tone took a sharp edge as she said “No, Pacifica, please. I need to say this.” Pacifica fell silent, as Mabel continued.

“I need you to promise you’ll love and look after Dipper, ok? After…after I’m gone.”

Pacifica felt her heart wrench into her throat, as she absorbed what the girl before her said, and she suddenly lunged forward to hug Mabel, whispering “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t go, I love you, Dipper loves you so much, please don’t leave us please don’t die, don’t die Mabel please we need you.”

Mabel gently pushed Pacifica back as she let out one more shuddering “Please, Mabel.” Mabel’s mouth was in a little ‘o’ of worried surprise, and tears crinkled the corner of her eyes as she said “Oh, Pacifica, no, I’m not going to k-…I’m not going to die, ok?” She grabbed Pacifica’s shoulders forcing the Northwest girl to look her in the eyes as she smiled sadly. “Ok?”

Pacifica nodded, but then said “But what do you mean after you’re gone?”

Sighing, Mabel said “I…I called my parents, let them know I’m coming home early: The bus leaves tomorrow morning. They were letting us take the first week of school off so Dipper won’t need to come back for another two weeks, but I…I want to go home.” She looked Pacifica in the eye again, as she said with a quiet finality “Alone.”

Pacifica nodded slowly, realizing what Mabel had made her promise earlier. “I…I understand, I think.” Mabel sighed, the smile brightening somewhat. She put her hand on Pacifica’s shoulder.

“So you promise, right?” In the face of her eyes, still wet with recently-shed tears, her own heart laden with guilt she knew she’d carry to her dying breath, Pacifica couldn’t say no, and just nodded once.

Mabel’s smile brightened again, and she gave Pacifica’s shoulder a squeeze, before pulling her close to hug. Pacifica returned the hug, whispering again “I’m sorry, Mabel, I’m so sorry.”

Breaking the smile, Mabel ducked her finger under Pacifica’s chin, saying “Hey, it…it’ll be all right, ok Pacifica? I forgive you.”

Pacifica returned the smile as Mabel grinned briefly, showing her braceless teeth, before returning up the creaking stairs. The moonlight through the window blurred, or maybe it was Pacifica’s eyes as she looked around before sitting back in the overstuffed armchair.

_Mabel, you won’t forgive me. I have two promises to keep: one to you, that keeps you miserable and separated from your brother; and one to myself, that will help you two get back what I have stolen and broken._

_I have to break a promise, Mabel, and your happiness is more important than mine. After you leave, tomorrow, I’m going to do the right thing. For both of us._

 

_I loved you._


	11. Chapter 11

The morning light was filtering through the window, dappling the floor between the twins’ beds. Dipper sat in his, alone, trying to resist the urge to curl back into a fetal position. His legs were stiff, matching the soreness in his neck from how he had been curled up last night.

He shot a glance over at Mabel’s bed, and could see it was empty. The bed was folded and made, far neater than she would ever leave it when just getting up for the day, and there was a pink suitcase sitting stuffed next to the bed. The sound of footsteps creaking up the stairs had him sitting up eagerly, but the rough voice that greeted him was just Grunkle Stan.

“Hey, hey kid? Dipper? There’s-there’s some pancakes, er, ‘Stancakes’ downstairs when you’re hungry. You should eat something before your sister has to…y’know.”

Dipper didn’t answer, and after a few seconds of silence there was an annoyed grunt and Stan’s footsteps echoed back down the stairs. Maybe the more political response would have been to respond, to be thankful to his Grunkles for keeping him on at the Shack longer than was necessary, for not probing too much into why just one of the twins was suddenly leaving for Piedmont, but mostly he just felt numb.

It seemed like all of this, everything with Mabel, with Pacifica, in the last few weeks was a warm happy fog. Dipper had experimented with drinking before and gotten a little buzz, and it felt almost like the same, like what was around him was shifting in ways he didn’t expect, frustrating him and devastating him in equal proportions without warning.

Everything had seemed so neat, so orderly before, with no loose ends. Dipper loved Mabel and Pacifica, Mabel loved Dipper and Pacifica, Pacifica loved Dipper and Mabel. Done and sealed, no-one left out in the cold.

 _Only that wasn’t what happened, was it?_ He scrunched up his eyes, the memory of Mabel’s face surging from the depths of his memory, of how she looked at him yesterday in the few fleeting glimpses she even did so. There was a wrench of guilt in his gut, familiar by now as he knew how badly he had hurt his sister.

Her wanting to be separated from Dipper, even for just a few weeks, was proof enough. The two of them had very nearly been attached at the hip since birth, never out of sight of the other for more than a day at most. Dipper had always thought of himself as the “strong” twin, the one who would be able to maintain stoicism when life would eventually and inevitably separate the two of them.

But he wasn’t.

He found that out last night, when Mabel had started packing her belongings back into her suitcase. That was when she had told him she was going back, taking the bus alone, and while he could see her lip was quivering, her eyes were wet, Dipper could feel his shoulders shake and wet sobs coming from his own lips. He didn’t beg her to stay, or pretend ignorance, but his composure was nonexistent when abruptly confronted with the idea of being alone from Mabel for the first time.

He was terrified, and he had only himself to blame.

Dipper went over it again in his mind, feeling the attempt for his mind to shift the blame to someone else, to Mabel for being so unpredictable in her emotions, to Pacifica for reaching out to him in that first message. But he knew he couldn’t, knew the blame was his.

He couldn’t blame Mabel: He knew Mabel, and could with a fair degree of accuracy predict how she felt about situations by just sitting and putting himself into her shoes.

But he didn’t do that, didn’t once consider how she would really feel if she found out her lovers had taken to cutting her out of the emotional loop without warning or explanation.

He couldn't blame Pacifica either: While she had reached out first, she was not trying to trick him away from his sister. She was genuinely worried that Mabel might no longer feel as loving, a silly concept in hindsight.

Instead, he had grown distant from Mabel and closer to Pacifica over the course of messages, meetings, dates, and nights of hot, close passion. He had a hundred-no, a thousand opportunities to stop, and had instead slipped each tiny increment until he was sitting in a pile of shit of his own making.

He could only blame himself. Dipper had perfection in his hands, wrapped around him: Love from the two people he was closest to. But he had thrown it away through carelessness, through thinking of no-one but himself and his urges, his feelings of the moment rather than considering the feelings of others.

There was one glimmer of hope remaining, one glimmer of love beyond the bare minimum Mabel now afforded him through nature of their sibling bond rather than any friendship or love. Perhaps that might regrow, not into the full bloom of a few weeks ago but at least to something not painful like a ragged wound. Dipper could tell that healing, however it might form, to whatever degree it might regenerate, was months and years away.

Here, at least, was Pacifica. Dipper still loved her, although he now reconsidered his every emotion, analyzing every thought he had to make sure he didn’t commit another life-shattering error like he had with Mabel and their mutual relationship with Pacifica. He worried that every flutter of feeling, every smile tugging at his lips when he made eye contact with Pacifica and she looked at him with those deep, liquid eyes, that all of those feelings were artificial hormones corrupting his brain. He worried that this wasn’t love, that he had never experienced love, but instead had just had lust tempered over time into what he thought must be love.

Of course, there was no good reference he knew of. All the books he read typically had a confession of love and passionate acceptance, and that love had been self-evident through choirs of feelings and daydreams coursing through the protagonist at every turn.

Instead, Dipper had heated cheeks, images of his sister fading into view on the faceless female forms he conjured when stroking himself, seeing her kisses for her countless boyfriends making his ears burn, and unable to keep his eyes off of her when she was in the room. They had been feelings of heat, of churning awkwardness, and of cold-water shocked relief when she had reciprocated. There were no choirs singing hallelujah when he saw her face, no daydreams of what she would look like in a wedding dress. Only hormones and nausea and tense awkwardness.

For Pacifica, at least, it had seemed like it followed the arc of some romance novels: They had awkward shared interests, confessions to each other and secrets they had shared with no-one else, and closer and closer feelings and meetings before it finally felt like the affection bloomed, rather than was thrust rudely into the cold to fend for itself. He still felt awkwardness, nausea before the confession of his feelings for Pacifica to her, but the kind he had when he was just anxious rather than petrified and ashamed.

So he had re-analyzed those feelings again and again, and finally come to the fairly-steady certainty that he loved Pacifica as much as she loved him. It might still just be hormones, but it fit what he thought love _should_ feel like to a close enough degree that it seemed accurate.

While Mabel might be fading from both their lives for a time, Dipper at least felt the free-fall of emotions catch a little as he knew he could talk to Pacifica, hold her close when he needed unconditional love and reassurance. It was scary how much of an anchor Mabel had served, starting with just being a sounding board for random thoughts and ideas, to being a partner willing to ask and answer hard questions he didn’t dare ask anyone else, and didn’t even ask himself alone.

And he knew he could do the same for Pacifica. She was sheltered, guarded at all times from anything that might make her vulnerable. As heartless as the Northwests were, they had at least trained her to hold that shell of emotion exceedingly well, and it rarely cracked or lowered.

But when it lowered, Pacifica needed someone there for her. Dipper couldn’t imagine what she had done in times like that before she had met the Pines, and had promised to her that he would always be there for her in times of need.

_I can’t think of a time when she might need me, and I might need her, more than this. She loved Mabel as much as me, and I think…I think these next few weeks and months will be times when she needs a friend._

He sat up in bed, pulling on some day-old jeans and stepping towards the attic door.

_At least we have each other._

* * *

 

The sunlight of the morning glinted off of the bus as it rounded the corner towards the stop. Dipper and Pacifica had accompanied her there, although the three of them had maybe said all of a half-dozen words in the half-hour since they’d set out from the Shack.

Stan and Ford had said little, making small talk with each-other but avoiding engaging directly with Dipper or Mabel. Dipper had looked like he had rolled out of a barn; Normally the tousled hair would have been something Mabel would have loved to play with, run his hands through, but now-

_Now it was probably Pacifica running her hands through it, and Dipper likes her doing it more than he ever did with you._

She turned, trying not to stare as she tried to sneak a look at Dipper and Pacifica. They were standing shoulder to shoulder, although she couldn’t see from where she was angled if they had their hands interlaced. No hands were running through hair, and she felt like kicking herself as she felt the tears well.

_C’mon Mabel, pull it together. They fucked up a lot of good-no, great things we had together, but Pacifica wouldn’t do something like that now. She doesn’t want to cause any more hurt than she already has._

Mabel at least felt reassured that Pacifica had promised to her that night, that she would stay with Dipper. He had looked as bad as Mabel felt when she had told him, when he had first seen her packing her suitcase, and the guilt of that still nagged at her.

The mature thing would have been to address the problem, talk it over, come to a reasonable and level conclusion and carry on with life.

But Mabel didn’t want to do that. Mabel wanted to run, run until her legs were tired, get as far away from this as she could, give herself time to think, to breath, to distance herself from Dipper and Pacifica until she could get her thoughts in order and be sure she was being rational.

_Heh. Dipper never had a problem being rational._

And that was just one more reason why she had to get away. She knew in her head that Dipper loved her, that he had just leapt before he looked, and not that he wanted to hurt his twin.

However, her heart protested this greatly. There, she felt that Dipper had shunned her, had made a rational choice like he always did and always would, and picked Pacifica over his sister. She knew in her mind that it couldn’t be true, that Dipper just messed up like everyone will because perfection is as mythical as the monsters in the woods around them.

But some part of her, some secret corner of her heart and mind, believed Dipper was infallible in the area of planning; He always had multipart folded plans for something as simple as a date, and it always felt like her making excuses for him to presume he just “forgot” to do so with something so much more exponentially important.

She could feel the heat rising to her ears as the bus neared. This was exactly why she had to get away, get distance from the evergreen forests and constant reminders of those moments she wished she could seal away with the memory gun. She had to have some time, alone, to come to terms and get her feelings organized, as every moment she remained in Gravity Falls felt like salt being poured in the open wound in her chest.

The bus pulled to a stop, the door creaking open. She looked up, the bus driver giving her a smile and nod as Mabel turned to face her friend and brother.

Her former loves of her life.

Dipper stepped forward as if to say something, but Mabel cut him off with a shake of her head. “Dipper, this-this is for the best. You’ll be home in a few weeks, and at that point we can…talk. Understand?” She felt a knot in her stomach for talking to him like he was a little kid, but he just nodded, giving her a brief, chaste hug before stepping back.

She turned to Pacifica, and just said “I…Thanks, Pacifica. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.” Pacifica bit her lip, her eyes watering, but she stepped forward, giving  Mabel a chaste but surprisingly firm hug, as if squeezing Mabel sufficiently tightly might change her mind.

Then Mabel stepped back, giving them both a little sad smile they returned in kind, before stepping onto the bus. She watched them as the door shut, watched them as the bus turned in a large loop, and finally watched them as they faded into the distance, before a turn in the road eclipsed them between the trees.

Mabel felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, a pressure released. She felt a little sob escape her, her shoulders shaking as she huddled against the warm glass window. Sniffling and then taking a calming breath, she kept reminding herself, over and over like a mantra.

_It’s for the best. It’s for the best. This would only have been more awkward and hurt more if you’d stayed._

_It’s for the best._

Taking a shuddering breath, she let out a little “Oh, right,”  and pulled out her cellphone from her pocket. She began typing out a message:

_**Mabelton:** Hey dad, hey mom. Leaving GF now. Coverage is lousy along the highway so probably won’t be able to reply until I get home. Can’t wait to see you two._

She stopped, her shoulders doing an involuntary jerk as another little sob snuck out, before she gently entered the last of the message.

_Can’t wait to see you two. I love you._

She pressed “ _Send”_ and then turned the naked phone back over. She then pressed the power button, holding it until the message appeared on the screen.

_Shutting Down…_

The screen went dark, and she was about to slip it back into her pocket when she stopped.

Mabel knew she would be tempted to call Dipper, to try to talk to him early, before she was ready, and probably before he was either. Turning the phone back on was too easy of an impediment, and she let out a little sigh as she pulled her phone back out.

She carefully pulled the pink rubberized kitty cover off of it, and flipped it over to pop the back open with a chipped watermelon-painted nail. Gently, she blew the modest amount of dust out of the exposed back of the phone, and pulled out the thin, warm battery. Slipping it into the top zipper of her luggage, she unzipped the side and slid her phone in after returning the plain rear cover and the pink kitten cover.

Then Mabel sat back in her seat, knees against her chest and looking at the passing trees, and tried not to cry.

She was mostly successful for the first two hours.

 

* * *

 

Dipper and Pacifica stood on the corner for a while after the bus disappeared around the corner. It was quiet this early, and apart from the occasional distant sound of a car or voice from far down the street into town, the only sounds were the gently wind in the trees and the stirring of birds and squirrels.

Finally, Dipper turned to Pacifica, giving her a little awkward but earnest smile. “I…I’m going to miss her, but I think she’s right, and it’s for the best.” Pacifica nodded slowly, her gaze angled towards the ground, deep in thought.

Unsure, Dipper continued hesitantly, his voice laden with more hope than he realized. “Pacifica, thank you for stay-”

“No.”

He stopped, feeling his stomach do a little twist. She was looking him in the eyes, her voice strained but even. Dipper smiled a little smile again, this one tinged with desperation.

“What?”

“No, Dipper. We _can’t-I_ can’t-…Just _no.”_

She went to put a hand on his shoulder, starting to smile a little, but already Dipper could feel his face burning, anger building on top of his embarrassment building on top of his sudden swelling fear. He shrugged off her hand with an angry snort, eyes looking at the ground, and not bothering to look up until he saw her half-turn away from him. She was looking at the ground now too, trails of tears rolling down her cheeks as he shoulders shook a little in a quiet crying sob.

“I’m…I’m sorry, Dipper. I’m sorry for everything.”

Finally, she looked back up, meeting his gaze before he could look away again.

“I just hope you and Mabel can…can…can be together, again. Eventually.”

The little smile she gave him at that was sincere; Her inflection in her voice held a tightness of sadness that made him want to scream and lunge forward and hug her and tell her everything would be all right and that the world would make sense again if only they could stay together, quiet and alone apart from each-other.

But Pacifica was firm in her resolve, tearful as she was. Her body was leaning away as if it wanted to retreat before she had finished separating from him, _dumping_ him.

With another little sad half-smile, she just quickly muttered out “I’m-I’m sorry, Dipper, but we-we probably shouldn’t talk until next summer. G-Good luck.”

Then she turned, almost spinning in place, and began marching quickly and firmly towards the Shack and her parked chaffeur. Behind her, Dipper felt like he had been shoved off a cliff, and felt his mouth open and close noiselessly as he voiced unspoken questions in his confusion.

The first thing he said was a little strained “No. _No.”_ He tried to take a deep breath, finding it hitched by the knot in his throat, as he paced in a little circle between the gravel driveway and the cement curb.

He could feel his breathing increase, starting to gasp as he felt like a giant fist was squeezing his chest in punishment for his folly. How _dare_ he presume that everything would be okay, that life could make sense, that his happiness would not only be broken to kindling, but that kindling would be burnt to ash as well.

He stubbed his foot, or stumbled, or simply lost the will to concentrate on something as mundane as balance for a moment, and cursed as he haphazardly regained his balance. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he felt the outline of his phone, and gritted his teeth.

_I had promised myself I would wait, wait as long as I could before…But this is urgent. God, I feel like I might throw up. I feel like I need to find a hole to crawl up into and die._

_I think I don’t have a choice._

He whipped out his phone, almost dropping it from his shaking fingers as he mashed in Mabel’s number on the phone. Mashing the green call button, he pressed the phone to his ear, waiting, almost vibrating as he hoped for her to pick up.

_I just need to talk to Mabel, explain the situation with Pacifica, get that sorted out, explain to her how I feel. How do I feel? No fucking clue, but maybe talking with Mabel might help me figure that out._

_Hell, not talking to her is what got me into this catastrophe in the first place._

The beep and sound of his sister’s voice almost caused him to squeak with excitement, until he growled as the voicemail reply became recognizable.

_“Just leave a message at the sound of the whoop-whoop! WHOOP-WHOO-”_

He mashed the phone off before the voicemail could begin, and bit his lip as he redialed and waited again.

_She would at least be willing to take a call, right? I didn’t fuck things up, piss her off enough she never wants to talk with me again, right?_

_Right?_

The voicemail beeped on again, drawing a rising cry of frustration from him as he ended the call. Finally, fingers bashing the screen of the phone, he redialed his sister’s number.

_We’ve always been together, always; Mabel can’t exist without me there as much as I can’t exist without her. We’re twins, twins forever, and nothing should, nothing can change that. We’re related by blood, and are as close as anyone can be to anyone else._

He stopped, the dial sounding distant as he felt an icy rush of guilt, realization, and a creeping tendril of anger race up the back of his neck.

_But what if she doesn’t want to be a twin anymore? She’s moving across multiple states, for over half a month._

_Because of you. Because of what you did._

He felt his heart continue the freefall as voicemail picked up again, and he repeated the dial. He didn’t know how many times he tried to call her, tried to talk to his sister, his twin. His eyes burned with tears, but tears of worry and fear dried as the voicemails picked up again and again.

Instead, the tendril of anger became a bud, flowering slowly into anger at her for being so illogical, for not wanting to just talk things out, to sit down and figure out the best path forward.

 _Basically,_ the little dark whisper said in his mind, _For being Mabel, the one and only._

_“Hi, this is Mabel. I can’t-”_

He roared in frustration, hurling his phone as far as he could into the trees, not caring as he heard the thump of it bouncing off of a tree or stump. He felt like he wanted to crush something, to yell and kick and howl, but beneath it all he just wanted to see his sister. To make everything right again. To reset the clock, and fix the slippery slope of silence and omissions and little everyday betrayals that led him to throw away his only chance at real happiness in this life.

He stood, breathing heavily for a while, before gritting his teeth and setting off into the woods. Dipper didn’t care which way he was going; There were a few hours of daylight left, and he knew the general direction of town and the Shack.

He just wanted to be alone in the woods for a while, for whatever solace that might bring.

 

* * *

 

The phone sits in the woods, screen cracked  and spiderwebbing from near the upper speaker. It sits in a damp patch of mud and moss, the tiny gouges and divots of the microcosm of terrain slowly filling and spilling over with water from the steady drip of drizzling rain.

There is another buzz, startling nearby animals for the countless time. The screen displays part of a smiling, excited face, shining out against the dark forest all around. The remainder of the image is streaked away into lines of monocolor gibberish along the lines of the cracking. The vibrating stops, the flashing battery bar eclipsed by a message.

_Voicemail Full: Please review 99+ messages._

A voice can be heard, tiny, garbled from damage and damp, but desperation and sorrow piercing it through.

_“Dipper? Dip, I’m sorry, I really am, but please pick up! I called Stan, and he-”_

The overflow of dripping water has finally overcome a tiny dike of dried grass and twigs, the splash of water pooling around the lower third of the phone. The colors on the screen shift, insanity and color jumbling them to a rainbow of nonsense.

It flashes white, and then goes dark and still.

**FIN.**


End file.
